


A Meeting of Chance

by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Derek, Cuddling, Deaton isn't all that innocent, Derek Has Issues, F/M, M/M, Magic Stiles, Scent Marking, Stiles basically saves everybody, Top Stiles, allison is less of a tool, derek is stupid cute as a human, ferel derek, hunters looking to start war, i kill kate in the best way, i wish I knew what else to tag, it's gonna be awkward as shit, jackson is still a douche, kate argent is still a bitch, matting ceremonies, non-consensual cuddling and nuzzling, scott still gets bitten, sterek, stiles becomes a mate, stiles unkowingly becomes an anchor, there will be much biting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 35,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had never been good at making smart choices. So the decision to go to Lydia Martin's end of summer party and confess his feelings was no exception. After being ridiculed he stormed out and drove out into the preserve. It was dark, it was quiet, and he could be alone to think about how much an idiot he is. That and his bottle of Jack. After a bit too much he wanders a little to far in and discovers a house. A burned down house. A burned down house that's being guarded by something with glowing red eyes.</p><p>(Or the AU where the Hale house fire killed everyone except for Derek. Faced with the loss of his entire family and being forced to inherit the title of Alpha at 16, he went mad. After spending six years in his beta form, he's turned completely feral. Running from or killing anything that comes his way. Except for when Stiles visits his house in a drunken stupor.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poor Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I have no idea where this is going. But I do know that it will have multiple chapters and something of a plot. Maybe even a little smut.

 

Stiles really didn’t know why he did it. It was an impulse really. A spur of the moment idea that had expertly backfired in the worst way possible. He shouldn’t be surprised really. His ability to make rational and well thought choices has never been that great. There was that one time he decided to eat from the sandbox as a kid. He’d spent three days with a sour stomach due to a particularly nasty bacteria that had made it’s home there. Then there was that time when he dared Scott to see who could climb the highest in a certain tree. It ended with him bruising his backside and Scott breaking his wrist. Their parents had not been happy in the least. So deciding to show up to Lydia Martin’s annual end of summer party was in no way a bad idea.

   It was easy enough to get in. No matter how snobby and entitled anyone in Beacon Hills may be, no one turned away free booze. A bottle of Jack did the trick just nicely. Inside the music was just the right volume with just the right amount of people in attendance. Not too many and not too few. Enough space to dance and sit and even socialize if you just weren’t there to get wasted. Which Stiles wasn’t. He was there for a far more specific purpose. Though it would require a little liquid courage. After a few solo red cups and maybe just a few too many shots, he was ready.

  Lydia looked stunning as always. Strawberry blonde hair swept her shoulders with were graciously exposed in a strapless knee length dress. She was chatting with a group of girls who wouldn’t give Stiles the time of day under any circumstances. He didn’t care very much about that. He strolled on over, chest puffed out. This was going to happen. He acknowledged the beauty in the most polite way possible. He tapped her shoulder and tried to suppress an inner squeal as she turned to him. Her usual features were twisted in an expression of perturbedness. Stiles was a little too drunk to care. He kept in short and simple. He liked her. Like a lot. As the request for a date came out of his mouth, the girls surrounding them just laughed. And not quietly. Lydia just stood there, not saying anything. Of course that’s what would happen. He should’ve known better. The hyperactive spaz of Beacon Hills didn’t have a chance with Lydia Martin. Maybe he didn’t take enough of his Adderall this morning. Didn’t matter, he was leaving. Now.

  The drive to the preserve was short. Or maybe not. He was driving really fast. The bottle of Jack sloshed mockingly at him as he skidded to a stop. The preserve was closed at night, but he didn’t care very much about that. He needed to be alone. No doubt the gaggle of giggling bitches would’ve already spread the news. The weird skinny kid just asked Lydia out. Hopefully they wouldn’t remember his name. They hadn’t before. Stiles’ one real hope was the Scott wouldn’t find out. That would be a whole different breed of nonsense that would need dealing with. But what Stiles was concerned with dealing with at present was the bottle of low grade whiskey in his hand.

  It didn’t take long at all. Being a buck forty-seven, there was little doubt in his mind that intoxication would be achieved quickly. He was happy with his drunk. It was enough to forget how much of an idiot he was. But not so much that he went scrambling around shouting his little inebriated ass off. It was enough however, for him to wander a little too far in the preserve for his liking. Oh well, he’d figure it out in later. He’d never been here before. The trees seemed thicker and bigger. Bolder. Prettier. It was nice. Like a little woodland adventure. What wasn’t so nice was the house that had just appeared out of nowhere. It was in shambles. Like really, it was just in the shittiest condition that was possible. And as Stiles got closer, he noticed a very distinct odor. Fire. Or rather, what the fire had left. The acrid stench of incinerated wood, tile, and other housing materials was not a good one in his drunken nose. It made the whiskey in his stomach churn just a little too much. Vomiting was imminent. For the first time that night he made a smart decision. And that decision was to leave as quickly as possible. But as he did so, there was something that not even that his alcohol ridden brain could ignore. Silence. Deep, profound, and unbroken silence. It didn’t matter that it was probably one in the morning. There should be some manner of stirring to be heard. Insects chirping. Owls hooting. Something. Except there was nothing. Not even the wind. What there was however, was a low growl that was coming from, oh shit, the house. Don’t turn around he told himself. Don’t you dare fucking turn around. He turned around. Out of the dark of the ruined house was a pair of blazing red eyes. The head they sat in turned to the side. Then whatever it was growled. Stiles couldn’t help it. He ran. Coach would’ve been proud. He’d never achieved this speed in practice. But it wasn’t fast enough. The creature tackled him to the ground with an unmatched ferocity. It hurt going down. Stiles twisted himself upwards and came face to face with what the hell was trying to kill him. Only it wasn’t quite a something as he’d thought. It was a someone. Well sort of.

  The features of his face were, wrong. Lumpy and furrowed. Excess hair along the jawline. And ears, pointed ears. Like something out of a monster movie. Even more shocking than his eyes were the fangs currently poking out from his lower lip. Okay, this was really weird. And not in the good, new discovery weird. More like the, oh shit, this guy is gonna kill me weird. But he didn’t. With a single clawed hand, because of course he had claws to, he grabbed Stiles’ face and turned it from side to side. He was examining him. Then after what seemed like a little too long, he pulled Stiles in and buried his nose into the crease of his neck. He was, smelling him? Yeah, there was some definite sniffing going on. After a few seconds that, the creature-man rubbed his face along Stiles’ neck and collarbone, like one would do if they were a puppy. Except this guy wasn’t a puppy. He was a freakishly muscular feral thing that was scantily clad and sporting some less than human features. But he wasn’t hurting him. Just a little bit of really intimate closeness. After a few minutes, the guy simply huffed and looked at Stiles with a dejected expression of satisfaction. And then he kept staring. Intently staring. Stiles may have been terrified in this moment, but he was also really curious. Extending one hand gingerly to whatever the hell this dude was, he placed it on his cheek. He melted into the touch and rubbed his face all over the reaches of Stiles’ hand, purring. Holy shit, the dude was purring. Then, then he wasn’t. He left without so much as ever saying a word to Stiles. Not that it wasn’t an entirely a bad thing. That gave him a chance to get the hell out of there. As he sprinted to his Jeep he noticed that the dude had left quite a mess on his second favorite flannel shirt. Great, he wouldn’t even bother saving it. He stripped it and walked back to his vehicle in nothing but his undershirt. At least it wasn’t that cold tonight. With the key in the ignition, he peeled out, spun around and headed straight for his house wondering what in the hell just happened.


	2. Realizations of a Darker Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns that horror stories and tales of monsters are real. And some of them might just be more human than he originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a little bit of soul crushing reality in this chapter. And some Papa Stilinski feels as well. Plus more snuggles. And for all of you who have a hankering for something with more of an established plot, I have another Teen Wolf fic that you can enjoy
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3612924/chapters/7973304

 

  The drive home didn’t take long. Panic drove Stiles a little bit faster than what could be deemed safe. To his misfortune, his father’s cruiser was in the driveway.

That was going to be an awkward conversation. Hopefully he could pull off being sober long enough to avoid being flayed alive. He was going to be grounded either

way for being out too late. That much was obvious. But if he could avoid brutal nagging and parent to son talks, then that would be an accomplishment.

  As a surprise to no one, his father was waiting in the living room. Face stern and eyes hard, there was little room for interpretation for the man’s mood. Pissed.

“Mind telling me where you were tonight?”

“At a party.” he answered not even bothering to lie.

“And you somehow thought that was acceptable because why?”

Stiles prepared himself for the oncoming wall of shit that was about to crash down on his head. But there was always the backup plan he had for desperate times.

Very much like this one. He sniffled and let a sheen of crocodile tears leak from his eyes.

“Listen, dad. I know it was stupid, and if it makes you feel any better, I regret it. The party was total crap and I just wanna forget tonight. So can we please talk about

this tomorrow.”

“Son, what’s wrong?” the man asked with a genuine look of concern on his face.

“I told Lydia. Told her how I feel. She just stood there why all her friends laughed at me. I got my ass handed to me in front of most of the kids from the school. I’ve

been properly embarrassed.”

  The grey haired man hugged his son tight, arms a comforting embrace. It was one Stiles knew well. It was the hug that he’d been given when his mother died.

When the nightmares and panic attacks were so frequent that he never seemed to have a moment’s rest. These were the arms of his father, the arms that held him

together when no one else could.

“I’m sorry kiddo. I know how that feels. It sucks, but you’ll feel better. I promise.”

  Stiles laughed dryly into his father’s embrace as he silently commended himself on his deception. The beautiful thing was it wasn’t a complete lie. More like seventy

percent truth with some amended details. Details that had claws and fangs.

“But you’re still grounded. Now get on upstairs to bed.”

  He didn’t bother arguing. He’d skated by nicely. The meager sentence of being grounded was one that he could live with. There were more important things that

needed dealing with. The nameless feral thing in the woods being the highest priority. The laptop was fully charged and ready to go. Ignoring the slew of messages

that had suddenly appeared in his inbox, Stiles went straight to google. He was a master at discerning the indiscernible. Making sense of that which defied reason.

This would be no different. After an hour, the most relevant information that he could muster up was articles about wolf children. There was one in the 1800’s in a

the country side of France. It said that he had been orphaned and left to die in the woods from an accident. But was found by wolves or some manner of dog. The

experience had completely removed any chance of him ever having a human social structure. But, in entirety, there was some parts of his brain that would respond

as a normal human child would. He understood emotional distress and would comfort those around him. Albeit like a dog would. Then there was a girl from Ukraine

in the late 90’s. She was found in an abandoned building have been raised by wild dogs. She walked on all fours, panted, and even groomed herself like a dog. The

people that examined her said she was beyond all hope of social recovery. Basic stories of feral children that had been prevalent throughout history. But what none

of them explained was how the one that Stiles had met in the woods had those strange features. Neither the case in France or Ukraine told of any deformities or

otherwise inhuman features. So that’s when Stiles decided to go to the more obscure parts of the Internet for answers. And it wasn’t one he went to lightly. After all,

going there meant he’d have to accept something that was impossible. It wasn’t long before he’d found something that made some manner of sense. And it terrified

him more than it satisfied.

 

_Among all the legends mankind has constructed and conceived, few can match the universal nature of the wolf man. Nearly every culture or civilization possess_

_prevailing tales of these mysterious and powerful creatures. All are different but share shockingly similar pieces. The wolf is controlled by the moon. The wolf may_

_hide in the flesh of a man. The wolf is a beast. A senseless monster that slaughters without hesitation. It should be killed and burned to ensure the safety of all man._

_Though, these beasts are not always adept at hiding. Many stories tell of how the features of the face may change when the beast is threatened. Namely the eyes. It is_

_the method in which the hunters of these beats may come to a means of identifying them._

 

Stiles stopped there. Werewolves. That was unexpected, though not entirely out of the question. He’d always been the kind of person that believed or at least gave

credit to things that were often beyond the realm of human reasoning. But the part about the senseless monster didn’t make much sense. If anything, the man he’d

encountered in the woods was merely curious. Though in aggressive manner. He’d just tackled him, sniffed him, and went about his business. There was no

maiming or tearing or otherwise physical injury. And that’s what intrigued him. The man seemed more like a puppy than a wolf. Albeit a very muscular one. And

Stiles was going to discover the nature of the creature-man he had discovered. But right now, he needed sleep. The whiskey stil sloshing in his stomach, he laid

down not even bothering to change into his sleeping clothes. He’d shower and change in the morning.

********************************************************************************************

Stiles woke with the sun. Not unusual. He liked sleep as much as the next guy. But sometimes his brain decided for his body. The shower was quick and breakfast

brief. An awkward meeting from his father was avoided, thankfully, because the man had already left for work. He’d been working the early shifts lately and Stiles

could count on that for at least another two days. Popping two Adderall with his glass of orange juice, he walked out the door to his baby. The roads were clear and

he caught every green light making it to the preserve in record time. Despite the amount of liquor he’d consumed last night, he was surprisingly awake and

remembered just how to get to the ruined. His compulsive memory retention did have its uses. It was still there, still half burned, and still smelling so ungodly bitter

and unpleasing. But the creature-man was nowhere to be found. He didn’t need to guess about where he might be. The first steps inside the house were not the

quietest he’d ever taken. But he wasn’t really trying to be quiet. And some part of him doubted that with the creature-man, he could be wearing enchanted boots

and still be heard from a mile away. As if on cue, the feral man thing showed up behind him, snorting at the intrusion. Stiles turned slowly to meet him. In daylight

he looked even stranger. The features of his warped face were more pronounced. He still had pointed ears and disturbingly pronounced canine teeth. Claws to. But

most of all were the eyes. They still burned a brilliant red. But they were not as frightening or aggressive this time. In fact, the creature-man’s face was, relaxed.

Happy almost so happy that he gripped Stiles in a bone crushing hug and buried his nose into his neck. Yep, there came the sniffing again. Only this time, he didn’t

take as long. He went straight to rubbing his face all over Stiles’ neck, chest, and at one point his face. Eventually, Stiles grew tired of the scratchy stubble and

pushed the man away.

“Okay, I missed you to I guess. But that’s really getting uncomfortable.”

The man looked horrified that the contact had been broken. Though he didn’t try again.

“I guess you can’t talk. Huh, oh well. The Internet didn’t elaborate on that. I brought you something.”

 

Stiles removed a package from his backpack that dripped red. The man sniffed excitedly at the raw slab of meat. And, holy shit, he was drooling. That was the most

morbidly cute thing Stiles had ever seen. Ripping the plastic off, he tossed the meat into a corner of the room where the man followed. Once he heard the sounds of

munching, he went of to explore the rest of what remained of the house. Which wasn’t much. Most of it had collapsed in the fire. Pieces still rotting from years left

out in the rain and sun. He was just about to enter one of the only remaining rooms when he was tackled to the ground, violently. The man had finished the meat.

And apparently was not very happy with Stiles’ snooping. Stiles braced himself as he felt clawed hands curl around his sides and as hot breath tickled the back of his

neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. Please don't hate me.


	3. The Truth in Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns the life of his feral wolf man. And it breaks his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've finalized a plot line that will be, in my opinion awesome. Plus, there will be smut!!!! But not now. You'll have to be patient I'm afraid. For now, have some unwanted and devastating feels.

Oh shit. Holy fucking shit, Stiles thought to himself. There was a feral, half naked man currently about to rip his throat out. Only he wasn’t. In fact, he was, nuzzling. Burying his face into Stiles’ hair and sniffing lightly. A soft, content sound coming from his throat. He was happy. Apparently he wasn’t angry at Stiles’ snooping, but rather, he just missed the opportunity to snuggle him. Which a weird. Like really weird. It was sort of the last thing one would expect from a seemingly rabid werewolf man. And then, there was a small pressure pressing onto the back of Stiles’ left leg. Almost like a-

“Okay, I think that’s enough of that. Thank you.” he said squirming his way out of the man’s grip.

He looked crestfallen to the point of disparity. This was getting weirder and weirder by the minute. First, there was the burned down house. Then there was the werewolf guarding it. Then there was the fact that the two times that Stiles had seen said werewolf he wanted to do nothing but snuggle or sniff some part of his anatomy. And then there was this strange room. One of what seemed like two left standing. The door was mostly gone, but there was still enough of it left for it to be shut.

“Hey, buddy. What’s in here?” Stiles asked as he opened the ruined door.

The smell was much like the rest of the house. The bitter aroma of ash and other long burned things filled Stiles’ nose as he entered. But as he trudged through the room there was another distinct smell that he couldn’t quite place. It was old and dark and sent shivers down his spine. The wolf man seemed to notice it too because he snorted and let loose a small whine from the back of his throat.

“What is it?”

Stiles’ question was answered when he heard a snap beneath his foot. Looking down, his heart dropped to his stomach. It was a skull. A human skull. The human skull of a child who couldn’t have been more than seven years old. And as he looked around, he noticed bits and pieces of other skeletons. Most were adults, but from the size of some of them, Stiles knew that they belonged to children. The wolf man pawed at the child’s skull, whining as he did so. Nausea overtook Stiles and he found himself bolting to just outside the house. He made it just in time to retch violently. It was foul, it was sour, and it just kept coming. There seemed to be no end to it. And just when he thought there wasn’t anymore, his stomach settled. He turned around to see the wolf man eyeing him with a stunted curiosity. And then there was sadness. No wonder he was feral. His entire family had been virtually incinerated. That would be enough to drive anyone over the edge. But Stiles knew what he had to do.

There was already a shovel in his trunk because of a poorly conceived prank involving a lot of dirt and Jackson’s Porsche. The intended desire was achieved, what wasn’t was the fallout but that was a different story for a different time. He walked a pace or two into the woods and started digging. He didn’t stop for what seemed like hours. After he was satisfied with the depth of the hole, he returned to the house. The wolf man was waiting for him. Misty eyed and whining. Stiles, painfully so, ignored him and walked into the house. Removing his shirt, he laid it down on the ground. As gently as humanly possible, he gathered every piece of bone he could find. He lacked the ability to determine which belonged to who but at this point it didn’t matter. After he had filled the shirt, he wrapped the pieces and carefully transferred them into the makeshift grave. Gingerly he placed them inside, being careful not to damage them further. After about three trips of this, the house was empty of bones, the grave now being their new resting place. Climbing out of the hole, he began filling it. Silently, he worked until he was satisfied that no one would notice the fact that there was a freshly disturbed pile of earth in the middle of the forest. And as he was finishing, he noticed the wolf man had come to watch him. Still whining lowly, he approached the grave and pawed lightly at the ground. Stiles knew why he was sad. Only two people knew that these people were here. Only two people to mourn an entire family. And Stiles hardly counted as he didn’t even know them. But it seemed to be enough.

“Możemy połączyć się w niebie.” he whispered as he bowed his head.

It was a prayer he’d learn from his mother. She said it was from the old country. Roughly translated it meant, ‘may we be reunited in heaven’. Stiles wasn’t sure he believed in heaven. And he didn’t know if this family did either. Or the wolf man who was currently howling at the sky. The only thing missing was the moon hanging in the sky.

“It’s okay buddy. They can sleep now. They’re at peace.”

The words didn’t feel like a lie. And Stiles wondered if the man even understood them. But at this point, he didn’t care. He’d just buried what remained of an entire family in the middle of the woods that were being guarded by a feral werewolf. In his mind, the last few days had been crazy enough. And in light of recent events, there was more research to be done now. Because he had the distinct feeling that the fire that killed those people, wasn’t an accident. Not by a longshot. Because somewhere at the back of his mind, he was starting to remember news of something like this happening some time ago. Around the time his mom died. And if that wasn’t too much of a coincidence, then he didn’t know what was.

   The wolf man continued to whine and howl as he sat at the grave and Stiles knew what needed to happen next. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with it, but he needed to do it anyway. The man was dirty and grimy and smelled like a cesspit, but Stiles hugged him anyway. Wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders and pulling him in, he squeezed tight and didn’t let go.

“I’m so sorry.”

The man was crying now. Like a human would. He tucked the top of his head under Stiles’ chin and just sobbed like a child. Because in essence he was. A child. There was nothing else he could do but cry. And there was nothing else that Stiles could do but hold him. It was the same thing Scott had done when the doctors came in and told him his mom had died. And now they sat, two desperate children trying desperately to hold each together. Because for some reason, Stiles felt the man’s pain as if it were his own. It felt as if he’d lost his mom all over again. But this time, he was strangely okay. Here, arms wrapped around a crying werewolf, he couldn’t help but feel that things were going to be a bit easier. And for the first time in a long time, he dared to hope that it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this chapter. I know you didn't need that. But I felt it had to be done.


	4. The Punch Heard Round the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets a little more heated with his dad and Jackson get his ass handed to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So In my opinion, Jackson should have gotten the shit knocked out of him a lot sooner than when they were trapped in the school. And I apologize for the lack of updates. Real life business has me in and out of the doctor's office. I go back for a full blood panel later this week.

Stiles knew he had been in the woods a little too long. The state of the shadows told him that it was getting late in the day. He needed to leave. There was only one problem. And it just so happened to be a 220lb werewolf currently asleep on top of him. Despite his freakish features, Stiles had to admit the man was somewhat attractive. Lots of defined muscle and well angled lines. If only not for the fangs and furrowed brow, he’d be a perfectly good looking human. And the fact that he was curled into a ball in Stiles’ lap was just adorable, in a morbid sort of way. But he had places to be, and the werewolf wasn’t going to budge easily.

“Hey big guy I kinda have to get home.” he said getting no response.

“Alright wolf boy, I need to leave and you need to get off of me. Come on.”

At the word leave, the man woke and whined through the dregs of sleep still clinging to him. He pawed at Stiles’ chest, burying his head into Stiles neck. It was absolutely cute in the most awkward sort of way.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too buddy. But I can’t stay out here forever. I promise I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  The man seemed to take a small manner of comfort in Stiles’ words. He let him up, but not before taking one last sniff and rubbing himself all over Stiles bare chest. The stubble hurt a bit but after using his shirt for what he did, there was no way he was putting it back on. He picked up the shovel and shirt, heading back to his Jeep. The wolf man followed, trotting idly behind him. Like he was stuck between the idea of walking on two legs or four. Not exactly the easiest thing Stiles thought to himself. He was, after all, a feral werewolf. Walking like a human must have been difficult. Though, if he was honest, it was kind of amusing to watch. Taking a spare shirt out of his Jeep and slipping it on, he went to climb in the driver’s side when he felt a hand at the back of his ankle. He was half tempted to tell the wolf man to stay, but that seemed a bit too much like a cliche. Instead, he turned to give the man one final hug before he drove away. The response the was a wet heat across his face. The man had just licked him. And, yeah, that was gross. Stiles laughed as he wiped his face clean. Driving away wasn’t easy, but he knew that he couldn’t stay without raising suspicion. So he left, now in the process of enacting the plan that he hoped would save his ass. He was technically grounded. After making a series of stops, he arrived home to find his dad’s cruiser in the driveway. He knew what came next. There was no bother being quiet, the lights were on.

“And what part of being grounded did you not understand?” his father asked him as he entered the house.

“Listen dad, I can-”

“You know what, save it. I’m so sick of this Stiles. You have so many excuses and reasons, and I’m tired of it. You never did this with your mom. I can’t fathom why you do it with me.”

  Stiles felt a surge of red rip through his chest. He’d been here with his dad before and it always ended badly. He knew that the fight was coming.  He didn’t bother to hide the tears. He was pissed. And it there was one thing he hated more than anything it was being so angry he couldn’t help but cry. His dad wasn’t having any of it.

“Don’t pull that crap with me. Give your keys. You can take the bus to school tomorrow.”

  Instead Stiles handed him the papers he’d brought inside. Partly because it was a real reason of why he made the stops on the way home, the other because he actually did need to fill them out.

“What’s this?” his father asked. His expression changed as he saw what they were.

“Are these job applications?”

“I saw the bills dad. The electricity is past due and I saw your bank statement. We barely have enough money for my medicine. I went out so I could try and find a job. I was trying, trying to be responsible for once. I know it’s not easy having me as a son and being the sheriff. I’m sorry. I’ll just take the bus tomorrow.” he said throwing his keys at his dad.

The man knew better than to follow. The anger was still there when Stiles flew to his computer. Google was the aid again. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. There were several articles about a house fire in the preserve some six years ago. He clicked on one that caught his attention.

_The investigation into the Hale house fire continues as reports of faulty electrical wiring were found. At the moment is suspected that this was the cause of the fire that claimed the lives of Talia and David Hale as well as four of their five children. The remains of Elijah, Laura, Colby, and Cora Hale were identified several days ago along with their uncle Peter Hale. As the community of Beacon Hills mourns this tragic loss, authorities are still searching for sixteen year old Derek Hale, the last remaining member of the family. Last seen at a friends house the night of the fire, police are offering a reward for any information leading to his discovery. A candlelight vigil will be held this Saturday for the friends and associates of the Hale family._

   Derek Hale, that was the name of his mysterious wolf man. He’d be twenty two now. Jesus, he’d lost everything at sixteen. He’d have to figure out how to bring him back somehow. Now that he knew the truth of Derek, what he was, and what happened to him, there was no way that Stiles was going to leave him alone in the woods. He’d spent six years by himself, there was no more need for that loneliness. He blinked back tears as he laid his head to rest.

**********************************************************************************************

 

Stiles woke early enough to shower and eat a decent breakfast. He found a note from his dad apologizing. His keys were on the counter. The first day of school was never his favorite. It would be better if Scott would ride with him. But he’d gotten a job at the vet clinic over the summer so now he rode his bike to have a ride to and from school. Stiles was alone in the mornings. He’d see Scott soon enough, but still, it would have been nice. The school was bursting with life and noise and all things that made Stiles’ brain go into overload. He parked and locked his jeep and headed inside straight to his locker. When he gathered his books and closed the dented metal door, there stood one Lydia Martin. His breath caught in his throat, because, honestly, he should’ve seen this coming.

“Stiles, I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” he asked with his voice caught between anxiety and anger.

“You know what Stiles.”

“Listen I was drunk and stupid, and to be honest, I’d rather just forget about it. I mean it was bad enough that you didn’t even say anything. Worse that you just stood there while your friends laughed at me. Friends, which I’m sure have spread the news. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to go crawl in the corner to avoid further humiliation.”

  Lydia moved to block Stiles when a familiar voice was heard. It belonged to one Jackson Whitmore. Captain of the lacrosse team and five star douche nozzle. Stiles should have also seen this coming.

“Hey Stilinski, in case Saturday wasn’t enough of an indication, Lydia wants nothing to do with you.”

Stiles ignored the jab and tried to leave. Jackson didn’t let him.

“Pay attention when I’m talking to you. Listen here loser, even if she wasn’t with me, what makes you think she’d ever go for a spaz wad like you? Or did your mom not teach you anything before she kicked the bucket.”

Lydia went to say something but Stiles’ fist found Jackson’s jaw before a sentence could be formed. The jackass stumbled back, a look of anger on his face. He swung for Stiles but met the locker as the boy cleanly dodged the punch. Taking advantage of his opponent's pain, Stiles delivered a kick to the inside of his left knee causing him to drop to the ground. Jackson barely had time to realize what had happened before another kick came across his face. There was a the sound of crunching and a spurt of blood. Stile walked off, heading to the principals office. He wouldn’t wait to be found. He knew what came next. The consequences be damned. And as he looked back to see Jackson’s state, he couldn’t help but notice a smile on Lydia Martin’s face. Huh, first the wolf man, now Lydia. Things were getting interesting. Too bad he was probably about to be suspended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that just happened.


	5. A Price Paid in Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles deals with the fallout of his actions with Jackson and tries to deal with Scott's new obsession. The new girl in town Allison Argent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so to make up for the really inconsistent posting, I busted my ass writing this extra chapter, (which is mostly dialogue), with what little free time I had today. So please enjoy.

 

It didn’t take long for word of what happened to go around the school. In fact, Stiles was getting texts from numbers he didn’t even have programmed into  his phone. Many proclaiming that Jackson had probably deserved it. Others from his small circle of friends. And then there was Scott. There was a particularly nasty one about ignoring the Facebook messages, which they used when discussing a topic that shouldn’t be left stored in a phone. Now, Scott had broken that and was discussing via text, which Stiles would be mad about later. Because Jackson just walked in the office with his dad, who was, in short, fuming. Stiles ignored them promptly. He didn’t like the smugness that exuded from the family. But most of all from Jackson. The principal came in next. Middle aged, English, Stiles found him very unlikable. Especially now.

“Well Mr.Stilinski, I assume since you brought yourself to my office you know why we’re here?”

  Stiles didn’t answer. He just jutted his thumb out towards Jackson and shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

“Correct. Is there a particular reason you decided to assault another student on your first day back?”

  Stiles looked at Jackson who was smirking under the tissue still pressed to his face. That was the last straw. He was gonna pay for that rich boy entitlement complex here and now.

“Because he deserved it. Plain and simple.”

“You’re saying my son deserved bruised knuckles and a broken nose?” the elder Whitmore asked.

“In my defense, the only reason he has bruised knuckles is because he can’t throw a punch and he ended up hitting the lockers instead of my face. So that’s on him.”

   “Do you find this amusing Mr.Stilinski?”

“Not in the least. My hand hurts like a bitch and my dad is gonna hand my ass to me when I get home, so no, this isn’t funny.”

“Well then perhaps you can clarify as to why I am having to deal with this situation first thing in the morning.” the principal demanded.

  “Alright, to make a long story short. I told Lydia Martin how I felt about her. I basically asked her out.”

“My son’s girlfriend?” elder Whitmore inquired.

“Yeah. And rather and answer, she stood there, silently, while her friend’s laughed at me. So today, she confronted me about it. I tried to leave and that’s when Jackson showed up. He berated me for being a loser who bothered to ask Lydia out in the first place, saying that even if they weren’t together, she’d never be with me. Then he, and I quote, asked me if my mother taught me anything before she kicked the bucket.”

  The room was silent after that. The principal rested his chin atop his hands, and essentially glared from beneath his glasses at Jackson. Whitmore Sr. shot daggers at his son and Jackson recoiled like a kicked puppy. Stiles simply sat there, not saying a damn thing for once in his life. In the light of things, it was probably for the best. It was another few beats before the principal spoke.

“I see. Is there anything you would like to add Jackson?”

The boy said nothing, knowing full well that he was caught in a dead end trap.

“Mr.Whitmore?”

“Jackson your mother and I raised you to be so much better than this.”

“But dad-” Jackson tried to retort. But he was stopped by a firm hand.

“Jackson, son, you of all people should know better than to speak of ill of the dead. Especially regarding someone’s parents.”

 The boy clamped his mouth shut and turned pale as a sheet. It was a well known, but never discussed fact that one Jackson Whitmore was adopted. It was a huge issue for him. The desire to please was a side effect. Having to the best at everything is what drove Jackson to push himself so hard. And when he failed or was met with disappointment, it sent his world crashing down. Stiles was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be saying anything else for the rest of this meeting.

“Well, Stiles, I apologize for my son’s behavior. We won’t be pressing charges.”

“Unfortunately Mr.Stilinski, that does not absolve you of your punishment. Normally, I would suspend you, but seeing as it is the first day, and that would send your entire academic set into a tailspin, that won’t be the case here.”

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat as he braced himself for what came next. A month’s worth of detention was gonna suck. Especially now that he had Derek.

“You are a member of the lacrosse team, and while not an active player, you still participate in practice, drills, and cross country. You are now suspended from both for the season. You will not set one foot on that field, am I understood?”

Stiles was crestfallen. Sure, he never got to play, but lacrosse was an outlet for his ADD. It gave him a great stress reliever. It helped take the edge off the restlessness. And most of all, it made his dad proud. Out of all all the spastic, useless behaviors, and random word vomit, he felt that it was one thing that his dad could appreciate about him. And now that was gone. He nodded his head and was given a notice of suspension to give to coach. Jackson and his father left with Jackson glaring and his father twirling the keys to his Porsche in his hands. Looks like Jackson was out of a ride. Stiles was pretty sure that he would be to by the time he got home.

  The walk to English was one he took slowly. He caught up on the messages he had been ignoring. Most now from Scott, blathering on about some new girl named Allison Argent. Argent? What was that, French? Turns out it was, because as he read on, he had to endure a slew of pointless details about Allison who Scott was now obviously crushing over. Great, there went bro time on Saturdays. Fan-freaking-tastic. Pushing aside his annoyance, Stiles took the time to answer all of Scott’s messages. And then replied to the others in the context of politely telling them to piss off. They ignored him before, they could keep doing so now. When he arrived, he handed the teacher the slip and went to sit down. Scott didn’t even noticed that he had entered. And if he was honest, Stiles prefered that. They could talk later. Right now he just wanted to get through the day.

   English ended quickly, as did the other classes. Lunch came and went with brief conversation about how Stiles broke Jackson’s nose and before Stiles knew it the final bell had rang and he was running out the door, having already given coach then suspension notice. Despite the freakiness of the situation, he wanted to see Derek. There was part of him that desired his company. Most of all, he wanted to see his face when he heard his name for the first time in six years. The preserve was full of the sound of birds and other spring things. It was beautiful. And Stiles couldn’t help but smile. The house was a bit of a ruined sight in all the greenery. But inside was his cuddly little wolf that seemed to be more like a puppy than anything else. Stiles hopped out of the Jeep and almost sprinted up the steps. Inside, just as he entered, there were rays of light coming in where the roof had collapsed. In any other situation, he’d be terrified. And strangely enough, he felt a shiver go down his spine. Looking down, there was a small trail of blood. Following it with his eyes, he saw that is led to the corner. Sat there was Derek, covered in grime, blood and looking despairingly miserable. He had been injured. Severely. Stiles had just enough time to take a single step, before he heard the same growl he heard the first night he was here. The growl that signified warning. Derek didn’t remember who he was. Derek didn’t remember at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Derek's injured, doesn't remember Stiles. We've been here before. Let's just hope for the best. And again, sorry for the cliffhanger.


	6. Pain Had and Pain Felt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles takes care of an injured Derek after helping remember that he's a friend. Only, things don't go quite as he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so things are about to get really intense. I don't mind blood, but some people do. So if you get nauseous easy, proceed with caution.

 

Every hair on Stiles’ body was on edge. The growl resonated deep in Derek’s chest sending electricity over his skin. This wasn’t the same wolf man Stiles had come to know over the last few days. This was the once again feral form that treated everything as a threat. And as such, Stiles was now a threat. One that Derek would eliminate if necessary. But somehow Stiles knew the one sure fire way to get to him. He just hoped it worked before he got mauled. He took a few steps more forward, earning a louder version of the growl.

“Hey buddy, remember me? We met the night I got shitty drunk and found your house? You tackled me, rubbed your face all over mine. I kinda, maybe petted you a little bit, which you may have purred at.”

  Derek wasn’t giving way to the memory. Stiles was going to have to try harder.

“The next day, I brought you a slab of chuck steak, and you inhaled it then tackled me and snuggled me. After that, I-. I buried your family. I dug the grave and placed their bones inside. You cried and I said a prayer. Do you remember any of that Derek?”

  The man’s eyes snapped to attention at the mention of his name. In fact, there was some minor form of recognition. The air of aggression was replaced with one of, pain. After allowing his anger and mistrust to subside, Derek was now feeling the full brunt of his injuries. Stiles rushed over, ignoring the very real possibility that he may or may not become a chew toy. Derek was a mess. The first thing he noticed was the arrow. It was protruding from the right side of his chest, a line of dried blood underneath it. Next came the bullet wounds. There were at least four that Stiles could see. He’d been shot with arrows and bullets. Other than that, he seemed to be free of injuries. But the smell was worse, he must have trudged through something truly awful. There were also new scraped and bruises. Probably from running into trees, a lot of trees.

“Derek, what the hell happened to you man?”

“Der-ek.”

  The man said his own name for the first time in six years. Not using his vocal cords for the better part of a decade left his voice raw and scratchy. The pronunciation was broken and messy. But he had spoken and Stiles considered that a step forward from growling and whining and howling.

“Yeah, that’s your name buddy, Derek. I’m Stiles by the way.”

“Stil-es.”

 The attempt at saying the other boy’s name was just as harsh and ill formed. But speaking wasn’t the issue right now. The issue was getting Derek medical attention. Except, Stiles couldn’t exactly walk into a hospital and day, hey I have an injured werewolf, please help me. Stiles’ knowledge of first aid was limited to band-aids and a very theoretical application of stitches. Anything involving a scalpel and forceps was a bit out of his league. But there was one option, one that he could use. But it wasn’t without its risks. It involved trusting a complete stranger, and endangering his best friend. He’d pulled out his phone before he could change his mind. It rang twice before someone picked up.

“Hey Stiles what is it?”

“Hey Scott, I don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll make this quick. Remember when you accidentally used a bottle of self tanner for happy time?”

“Yeah?” Scott answered hesitantly.

“And how I graciously helped you apply it to the rest of your body so that no one in the locker room would ever find out?”

“What’s your point Stiles?” Scott asked slightly perturbed.

“Well, I’m calling in that eternal debt. I have a problem and I need your help with it and you can’t tell anyone about it. And I mean NO one Scott. Especially my dad.”

“Yeah, sure. What is it?”

“You’ll see when I get there. Just, try not to freak out when I bring him in.”

   He hung up after that. Now began the process of getting a 220lb werewolf into his Jeep. A werewolf that was seriously injured and barely conscious. He wasn’t responding to verbal commands so Stiles tried something else. Gingerly, and with much disdain, he took the tip of his nose and ran it along Derek’s jaw. The action itself was simple, but it seemed to rouse Derek from his pain addled stupor. In fact, he positively electrified him with energy. Fully awake, Derek let his tongue slide across Stiles’ cheek and yipped? That was the right word, yipped a happy sound at Stiles. After that, he was much more pliable. But he still had to half lean on Stiles in order to get him inside the vehicle. Getting him to sit like a person was even more difficult. After convincing him the best way to sit down was with his butt on the seat with his legs straight forward, he clicked the seat belt into place. Halfway towards the clinic, he remembered the events at school and somehow Stiles managed to send a text saying he was out for job interviews and how he would be home later. If the universe loved him, than he would by that complete crock of shit that was. And so far, it seemed to because his dad said they would discuss his working as well as Jackson when he got home. Thank you universe.

  Stiles parked at the back entrance to the animal clinic and waited to make sure that the coast was clear before texting Scott. When the boy opened the door to the passenger side of the Jeep. Derek growled lowly and Scott jumped back with surprise.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“Well, Scott firstly, he is a werewolf whose name happens to be Derek. He’s been shot and needs help. And Derek, that is Scott, who is a friend. We don’t growl at friends. Got it?”

  Derek gave an annoyed snort as Stiles got out of the driver’s side to help that grumbly wolf man out of the Jeep. Scott, carefully so, grabbed Derek’s other side and effectively dragged him inside the clinic. In the back there was a cold and clean exam table. They placed Derek on top of it who then proceeded to pass out. From Stiles’ guess, it must have been from the pain. It didn’t take long for Scott to start asking questions.

“Where did you find a werewolf?”

“Look, help now, questions later. I don’t know how long he’s been like this. If we don’t do something he’s going to die. Where’s your boss?”

“On a house call, a lady wanted to put her cat to sleep. And she didn’t want to bring her here.”

“Great, you work for the one vet on California that actually makes house calls. Oh, fuck it, we have to do this ourselves.”

  Stiles rushed to a cabinet and grabbed a plethora of cotton bandages, alcohol, and what looked like a pair of pliers. He’d need those in a minute. Derek would have to deal with the scar. Thankfully he was passed out. Stiles applied the alcohol directly to the wound and the to the pliers. Grabbing the shaft of the arrow, he gripped tightly and pulled. It took several tries, but eventually, he got it loose. When the barbed edges of the arrow’s head were free of Derek’s chest, he woke up with a roar. Stiles flinched back and Scott practically flung himself into the wall. Derek’s eyes were that piercing red color but at seeing Stiles’ face, he calmed and sniffed towards him. Stiles put his hand on top of his head and rubbed gently. Derek’s body relaxed and his breathing evened out. The wolf closed his eyes and did that purring thing that Stiles found so adorable.

“Dude, think we should probably give him some kind of sedative. I really don’t want him doing that again.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever man.” Stiles answered not really paying attention.

  The blood from the arrow wound was dripping down in a slow and steady stream and Stiles was doing his best to stop it. The flow wasn’t life threatening. But he didn’t want to see Derek lose any more bodily fluids. He was just about to start on another round of cotton bandages when he heard Scott tapping the syringe. The syringe which Derek now saw. His red eyes blew wide and he bared teeth. Holy shit did he bare teeth.

“Scott maybe you shouldn’t-”

   But he didn’t have time to finish. Scott turned towards Derek who then growled fiercely before clamping his teeth into Scott’s shoulder. Stiles was there arms wrapped around Derek’s neck as Scott screamed bloody murder. He’d learned this when his dad started teaching him self-defense techniques. Even on a super strong, massively muscled werewolf a choke hold was effective. Derek was out in seconds. He relinquished his grip on Scott and fell to the floor completely unconscious. Stiles was next to Scott, whose shoulder was bleeding. There didn’t seem to be any damage to the bone or tendons but the bite was deep. Deep enough to need stitches. Stitches which Stiles didn’t know how to do.

“Well, it looks like things have been eventful since I left.”

  Stiles turned to see a middle aged black man with a placid face and deep, profoundly colored eyes. He looked at Stiles, then at Scott, and lastly at Derek. He smiled as he pulled out a jar of something black from his satchel.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the cliffhanger, again. But they just seem to write themselves and I just can't help it. Also, as a treat, check the updated tags for a surprise. You might just like what you see.


	7. Finding the Truth in the Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton treats Derek and Scott and tell Stiles the options that he now must choose from. Stiles doesn't like choices he has to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I never really liked Deaton, so that reflects here. But I am interested to know more about his past. Hence, the introduction of the name for the Original Male Character. He is, by far, one of my favorite characters that I have ever made. He will, in short, illuminate the less than savory details of Deaton's past. And in the next chapter, Stiles learns the hard truth about what happened to Derek and it hurts. And he gets set on the path that will change his life forever. So stay tuned.

 

Stiles’ head was spinning. Scott’s boss, whose name turned out to be Deaton, had something going on with him and Stiles was bound to figure it out. He’d ringed an unconscious Derek with something called mountain ash and simply walked away. Less than a minute later, Derek awakened, groggy and confused. The first thing that he did was try and reach Stiles. But for some reason, he couldn’t make it past the black ring that Deaton had placed around him. He howled and whined and practically screamed. Stiles started walking towards him when the veterinarian broke a vile on the ground sending a purple haze into the air. Derek sniffed just once and then passed out again. Deaton said he was fine and that he would just be asleep for a few hours. After that was secure, he moved inside the ring to treat Derek’s wounds. There were actually six bullets in him rather than four. Stiles cringed as each of them was extracted and the wounds sewed shut. Thankfully for Derek, he remained asleep. Otherwise there would have been another person to deal with. Scott was taking it in stride. He’d taken a small amount of pain killers and now his shoulder was down to a dull ache. Deaton said they needn’t bother with stitches. Stiles was afraid to ask why but he did anyway.

“I’m sure by now you know what he is and what happens when he bites another person.”

“Scott’s going to become like Derek isn’t he?” Stiles asked flatly.

“That, or his body will reject the bite and he will die.” Deaton answered.

  Stiles’ stomach felt like someone had sucker punched him. Scott couldn’t die. That was his best friend since they were five. They’d been through everything together. There just wasn’t a world without him, plain and simple.

“Is there anything you can do?”

“I’m just a vet Stiles. I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Bullshit. You knew that stuff would keep Derek from getting out. You knew that the bite could kill Scott. You aren’t telling us something. So start talking, or when Derek wakes up, I break the ring and he can make you talk.”

  Deaton considered Stiles words before removing his gloves. Throwing them in the bin, he turned to Stiles, hands resting on the counter, face as blank as a slate.

“Once, many years ago, I was a guide. An advisor of sorts to people like Derek. Werewolves that is. Creatures that battled with their animal nature and would often seek guidance in the matters concerning humans. When they would doubt themselves, when fear replaced anger, I was there to help them. To show them the path they needed to walk. Once, I did this. Until the fear I tried so hard to dispel was justified. When the hunters set fire to their home. When an entire family was reduced to cinders and left a sixteen year old boy an orphan.”

  “Hunters? What the hell are you talking about?” Stiles demanded.

“Just as I exist to help people like Derek, there are those who exist to destroy werewolves. Though at the time, I believed there to be a truce. One among them broke it and at a heavy price. There were humans in Derek’s family. Children. Innocents. They burned all the same. That is why he is the way he is. Wolves are pack creatures. They need to be with members of their own kind.”

  “So how do we fix him?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.”

Stiles sighed and resisted the urge to smack the cryptic bastard in front of him.

“He’s been like this for six years. Running from everyone except me. When he met me, he was, friendly. Then whoever did this to him screwed that up. And now my best friend got bit and is either gonna die or become a werewolf. I was making progress, but now he hates or fears anyone but me.”

Deaton looked at Derek intently, and then back to Stiles. There was a look in his eyes that told Stiles that he was thinking of something. But he wasn’t saying anything. He was the type to stay silent unless he knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Actually, you might just be wrong. Derek attacked Scott because he viewed him as a threat to your safety. When I was treating him, I noticed a puncture mark in the side of his neck. Someone had managed to capture him and inject him with something. It’s likely that when he saw the needle he felt that Scott was going to hurt you. In short, Derek thought he was saving you.”

  That was an interesting thought to say the least. If anything, Stiles had been helping Derek. He could hardly pass for a human and in the few days they’d known each other, Derek had acted more like a confused puppy than a person. The idea that he was helping Stiles was one that racked his brain and not in a good way.

“So what do we do now?” Stiles asked hoping for a direct answer.

“There are three options. One, we find a safe and secure location for Derek while you try and continue to reach him. Two, we simply kill him.”

“NO!!! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry Stiles, but part of my job was to also know when hope was lost. And in this case, it very nearly is. Hunters have arrived and I can’t go against them and neither can you. They decided to burn a family alive. They will see no foul in hurting or even killing you.”

  “What’s the third option?” Stiles asked not being deterred.

“There is an old associate of mine. His position is much like mine. He exists to help maintain a certain balance in the world. Though, the difference between the two of us is that I can feel remorse for my actions. He does not. He is merciless and ruthless. But also regarded to be one of the most highly skilled practitioners of the Craft, which we use to aid the balance. If there is anyone who can get Derek back from his feral stage, it his him.”

  Stiles considered the idea of the person Deaton spoke of. He sounded, in short, terrible. But a part of Stiles didn’t really care. Derek was alone, smothered by grief and confusion. Unable to tell friend from foe, he simply ran from everything. Stiles would take the chance. He would take the chance for Derek. But he knew there was something that Deaton had left out.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“There are some things that you need to know about this man. Firstly, he is called the Book Keeper. This is because he collects all knowledge of the Craft, light and dark, and uses it as he sees fit. That is what makes him so powerful. My skills compared to his are as different as night and day. Secondly, he will ask something from you. In his own words, he never does anything for free. It will not be money. It will not be a favor. It will be something deeply personal and intimate. And lastly, you must be careful. If he gathers the impression that it would be easier to kill Derek rather than save him, then he will. You must convince him that Derek is worth saving. Otherwise, I fear for the both of you.”

  Deaton’s words were like ice water in his veins. This was a gamble of long odds by the sound of it. One that could end with Derek’s death and Stiles would have to make that choice. The one that involved enlisting the help of a supposed mad man. One that would gladly kill someone who was just trying to survive and that meant that Stiles was gonna roll the dice and pray he didn’t come up snake eyes. But one look at Derek, at his tattered body, the dried blood still clinging to him, and Stiles had his answer. Derek would come back. Derek would be human again. There was no person in the world more deserving of it than he was. Besides, Scott was most likely gonna be a werewolf anyway. He’d need somebody like Derek to help him. The choice was made.

“Well, I suppose I’m gonna need his address.” Stiles said.

   Deaton scribbled it down and told him where to go. Unfortunately, that would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now he needed to get Scott home and then himself. Deaton assured him that Derek would be safe here for the night. The ash would keep him in place. It still hurt Stiles to leave. So just before he did. He entered the circle and pulled Derek into his arms. He was still asleep, but he knew that somehow, Derek would know. He heard the steady beating of the wolf’s heart as he pressed his face into Derek’s shoulder. Then, he placed him down gently. Turning, he prayed a silent prayer that his wolf man would be okay. Because lord knows, he’d been through enough.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!!! Not a cliffhanger for once. I bet that makes some of ya'll happy. Now, next chapter is going to a combination of weird, intense, and just a tad bit creepy. But for now, I have to leave you. Will try and post update tomorrow.


	8. Cigarettes and a Faustian Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets the Book Keeper and pleads his case for Derek. They strike an accord that leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth and a pressure at the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we get to meet the Book Keeper in this chapter and holy crap is he creepy. Stiles is nervous as hell because he has no idea what to expect. Let's find out what the hell is going in with this guy.

School was something of a blur to Stiles. He’d talked with his father with the previous evening, the discussion being how wrong it is to just randomly punch someone in the face. Which was then followed by his father telling how proud he was of him for defending his mother. With the reassurance that he wouldn’t do it again, Stiles was left with a warning and a lingering sense of guilt. Too busy in the mind to pay any real attention, English and Chemistry especially, the day was done before he had time to blink. Vague memories of Scott talking about Allison and Jackson’s bruised face where the only things that really made any from of an impression. The one prevailing thought was of Derek and how he was still locked in a ring of mountain ash. It made his gut twist thinking that he was still trapped in there, unable to move beyond a five foot radius. Something that he hoped to amend as soon as the final bell rang. When that blessed sound finally chimed through the air, Stiles was out like a bat from hell. The address that Deaton had given him was to a herb and spice shop just outside of Beacon Hills. Less than a town over. It was more of a secluded business district than anything else. It was easy enough to find. Mostly, it was small, darkly colored buildings that were creepy to look at and the thought of actually entering one was even more unnerving. The one Stiles needed was a larger than most, and simply displayed an open palm with a wide eye on the center which was smack in the middle of the door. That was the one Deaton had talked about. He hesitated before opening the door, trying as hard as he could not to have a panic attack. From the sound of it, this guy was really creepy. And not all that pleasant. But Stiles was here for Derek, and he was determined to help his wolf man come back. No matter what it took.

  The inside of the shop was dimly lit and smelled stale and very much needed a candle lit. Vanilla preferably. The shelves were lined with various jars and containers, each filled with things that Stiles wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know about. Other areas held books, (hence the guys name), and there were was a table that held a pot simmering with a sour smelling liquid that Stiles steered very clear of. There seemed to be no one at home, or at the very least, that he could see. Then, there was a click, a spark in the dark. A thin stream of smoke puffed forward and formed a grey cloud. It tickled the back of his sinuses and he had to resist the urge to choke. Whoever this guy was had a serious smoking problem.

  “Um, hello.”

The man snapped his fingers and the instantly a mass of candles ignited and the room was filled with flickering golden light. The man before Stiles wasn’t a man at all. A boy more like it. He was all curly brown hair and wide, block like features. A subblish beard peppered his cheeks and his eyes shone in a color that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be green or blue. They stared at each other, unflinching, as the man continued to fill the room with smoke. After a few minutes of this, he waved for Stiles to take a seat in a chair directly in front of him. Seating himself, Stiles waited for the man to say something. Extinguishing his cigarette, he turned back to the boy, and turned his head to the side in a quizzical manner before addressing him.

   “Deaton sent you did he?” he asked plainly.

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, these things come naturally.” he answered not bothering to elaborate.

  Great, cryptic. Just like Deaton. Stiles resisted the urge to point out that the man seemed no older than him. Maybe twenty at best. Eighteen without the beard.

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re here or are you just going to keep making snide comments?”

Stiles flinched back at the man’s words. He’d just read his mind. Or had he said those things without realizing it. Didn’t matter. His spine was an iron rod, his gut a jumbled mess. This dude seriously put his nerves on edge. But Deaton said he was the only one who could have a surefire chance at bringing Derek back, so Stiles would plead his case.

   “I have something a feral werewolf problem.”

“I don’t see it as a problem. Kill the thing and be done with it. Easy as that.”

  “That isn’t an option. Ever. I need help bringing him back.” Stiles retorted.

“Well, aren’t you determined. Tell me, why should I help you? A dagger to the heart would be much simpler. Or a bullet. The spells required to reach a wolf that’s retreated to far into his or herself are dark and dangerous. Why should I risk my life?”

  “Because he deserves it.” Stiles answered with a strong tone.

The man eyed him intently, as if to gauge him, in a sort of creepy way. Then he smiled. A toothy grin of pure, unbridled wickedness that sent ice into Stiles’ spine and a flutter in his heart.

“How so young one? What makes this wolf so more special than any of the others that I’ve ever encountered?”

  “When I lost my mom, my world shattered into a thousand pieces. I broke, cried constantly, had daily panic attacks. The only reason I didn’t lose it completely was because of my dad and my best friend. Little by little they helped me pick up the pieces. There are still some missing that I can never get back, and I know that. But enough of me was put back together. Enough that I could forget my misery and move on.”

“What’s your point?” the man asked growing impatient.

   “Derek’s had no one. His entire family burned in their house. A fire which was set by hunters. And after that, he was alone. For six years he’s been smothered by grief and pain with no one to help him shoulder the burden. I met him a few days ago. He was terrified of me. But then he wasn’t. I was the first person in six years that he wasn’t afraid of. The first, the first friend he’s had in the better part of a decade.”

  The man was interested now. He rose from his chair and stepped towards Stiles. He extended his hand and Stiles felt a strange pulse of energy crawl across his neck and chest. The man did this for several seconds before retreating back to his chair, an amused grin on his face.

  “Well, you’re certainly right about the friend part. He’s marked you quite thoroughly.”

“Marked?” Stiles inquired.

“Wolves identify each other by scent. His scented you as a symbol of his trust. Also as a warning to other wolves. That you belong, if you will, to him. It is a statement that if they were to harm you, the consequences would be, less than savory.”

   “Is that why he licks me?”

“No, that’s another matter. But at the moment it is irrelevant. I will ask you one final question. And your answer will determine my involvement in your werewolf problem. Are you willing to die for this boy?”

  Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat. That was something that he didn’t quite have the answer to. He cared for Derek, that much he knew. He had the desire to help him. The drive to do what it takes, but to die? To hurt his dad and Scott like that. It was difficult to determine just how far he was willing to go. Death seemed like an extreme.

  “What is your answer?”

“I don’t know.”

  The Book Keeper’s face relaxed and the grin faded. His eyes did something weird as he kept his attention to Stiles. They flashed a bright, shining silver color before returning to normal. He rose from his chair and went to the back of the room. There was the clinking of glass and the rumbling of leather. When he came back, he had a small glass tube and knife made of some kind of black metal. Stiles didn’t like where this was going.

  “Your heart is pure and your words truthful. As such, I will help you. But know this, the spell is dangerous, and my price steep. Are you willing to accept these terms?”

  “What do you want?”

“A vile of your blood will do. And don’t ask why. Because I won’t answer.”

  Stiles was disturbed at why the man would want his blood but he’d come this far. So it didn’t matter. He held out his hand and the man took his finger and gingerly sliced it with the knife. He winced at the sting and watched as droplets of crimson dripped into the vile. When it was about halfway full, the man corked it, and waved his hand over Stiles’. There was the sensation of pins and needles. Then there was nothing. The cut was gone, along with the pain. In it’s place, a thin line barely able to be seen. The Keeper pocketed the blood filled vile and pointed towards the door. He was telling Stiles to leave, which he was happy to do. Before he could though, the man grabbed his shoulder.

“Stiles, I wish you would think better of me. I have no intentions of harming you, in fact, I am trying to help you. Be very careful how you behave with this wolf. You might just give him the wrong impression.”

  As Deaton’s fashion, the man’s words where cryptic and elusive. He let Stiles leave the the assurance that he would arrive at the clinic in a few hours after he’d gather the needed materials. Stiles left with a certain sense of apprehension. Deaton had been right about the man. He was indeed creepy. And then there was the strange display of magic, or Craft as the vet called it, that he had used. Lighting candles. The strange energy that ran over his neck. The healing of his finger with just a twitch of the man’s hand. It left Stiles wondering just what the man was. Because silver was not a natural color for human eyes. And that made him think that maybe he was more like Derek. In short, someone with Derek’s strength and power, plus freaky powers, that terrified Stiles. And the man seemed to enjoy that more than anything else.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A vile of blood, just ew. Told you he was creepy. Makes you wonder what he wants to do with it. And is Stiles really safe? Will the Book Keeper truly help Derek or does he have an alternative solution? Stay tuned to find out!!!!


	9. Conspiring in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keeper deals with a certain thief. And not in a good way. Stiles heads back to the clinic and begins the process to bring Derek back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so in this chapter, more Keeper Creeper, (you see what I did there?), who shows just how not nice he really is. Stiles gets back to the clinic and finds Derek snuggling Scott and then finds himself being snuggled by Derek. YAY!! Also, more blood here, so again, if you squeamish, turn back now. Also, you're gonna hate me at the end. You know why.

 

The boy left the store leaving the man pondering events that had passed and events yet to come. Derek Hale was indeed alive. After six long years, the boy had been sighted. And by a human no less. One that wasn’t a hunter. It was a series of happenings that were coming to a climax. They would need dealing with soon enough. But for now the man was content with satisfying his own curiosity. Waving his hand towards the cauldron, the fire died down and the liquid inside faded to an unpleasant dull green color. It would cure his client's boil issue, but he wouldn’t enjoy it. That’s what he got for delving blindly into the Craft. And now, he had a new concern for the art. The boy was able to enter the store, no issue had. And that was interesting. The magic enchanting that lock was both subtle and intricate. There were only two ways inside. One, someone had to receive a personal invitation and he gave very few of those. Second, the person had to have a potent Spark, an inherent talent for the Craft. As time went on, there were fewer people who had this gift. The old blood having been dwindled down over the years. But here, now, that small unassuming child had powers he was entirely unaware of. It would be a wonderful had the boy not been involved with werewolves. Such powers were subjected to emotion. One outburst, one moment of rage and the boy could do something he’d come to regret. The matter would be brought up later. Now, he had a feral wolf to deal with. From the sound of it, the boy had contained him well. Too well perhaps. If the wolf was mistaking the boy’s intentions then it would create a scenario where very few people had the ability to understand. But for now, he needed to find where he’d put the jar of Somniatas Root. It was on the top right shelf where had most certainly NOT left it. He had just finished packing the rest of the needed items when there was a clicking at the front of the store. Someone was trying to break in. That was new. Most who came to him knew who he was, and none were foolish enough to try something like this. So either this person was uninformed or simply didn’t care. Didn’t matter. He or she would suffer the same fate regardless. Retreating to the shadows, he waved his hand and the lock clicked open.

  The man who entered who in his late thirties and balding. Scars rippled across his face and head. A hunter. That was something of interest. He ruffled around the shop, passing right by the Practitioner, never even looking his way. The man was searching for something. And from his satisfied sound at the back of his throat, he had found it. He pocketed the jar and turned to leave when he came face to face with the man he was stealing from. There was a moment of silence before the hunter drew his gun. It was ripped from his hand by an unseen force. The boys eyes flashed silver again and the hunter was thrown against the wall, a small grunt escaping his lips as he endured the impact.

  “You are either very brave or very stupid. Either way, you should know better than to steal from me hunter.”

The jar flew from the man’s pocket landing in the boy’s hand. What was inside was something that perked his attention. Hangman’s Root. That was something very few people knew how use and even fewer knew where to find. The fact that the hunter wanted it was irrelevant. Who he was getting for was far more interesting. He’d find that out soon enough. Stiles would have to accept the fact that he might be a little late. This hunter needed dealing with now. He’d just gotten to his feet when he felt the first of bones break. The Keeper smiled viciously as the man screamed. He was only just beginning.

********************************************************************************************************

Stiles made it back to the clinic as quickly as he could. He wanted to make sure Derek was okay. When he arrived, he came to the sound of Scott shouting. He rushed back to the clinic to find a most peculiar sight. Derek was, hugging Scott. The teenager was squirming, trying to remove himself from Derek’s clutches as the wolf rubbed his face over Scott. It was funny and confusing at the same time. Stiles coughed to announce his presence. At the realization that he was there, Derek relinquished his hold on Scott and rant towards Stiles. More than anything he looked like a puppy who was excited to see his owner after being left alone all day. Stiles let himself smile as Derek began rubbing himself all over Stiles’ chest and neck. Then came the sniffing, again. It was rather cute and annoying. Derek’s stubble was still like sandpaper and it made for a very uncomfortable reunion.

  “Hey buddy, you miss me?”

Derek’s answer was giving Stiles a soft bite on the line of his jaw. Not a proper bite like Scott had gotten, but rather, it was more of a nip. Like a fussy child would do.

“Hey that wasn’t very nice.” Stiles said as he returned the favor. He bit down on Derek’s jaw with enough force to hope it would hurt. Derek just yipped and licked the side of Stiles’ face.

“He’s clean.” Stiles commented as Derek went back to burying his face in the boy’s chest.

“Yeah, after he came to, Deaton managed to bathe him and get him in some decent clothes. Well pants. He didn’t really understand the concept of a shirt. But I consider it a win.”

“So, getting along better I see?” Stiles asked cheekily.

“Shut up. I walked in after practice and he just tackled me and started sniffing me and rubbing his face all over me. It was weird man.”

  “Don’t worry Scott, it means good things.” Deaton said emerging from nowhere. He was clad in an apron and was removing his gloves when he turned his attention to Derek. He smiled coyly as he untied the apron.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, seeing as you are not dying, the bit must’ve taken. And after you explained your performance on the field, it’s safe to assume that you are indeed a werewolf. Derek’s reaction is an instinctual one. Alphas will mark their betas to lay claim. It signifies that they are his and are under his protection.”

  Scott frowned at the idea of being “claimed” by Derek. But the sourness was quickly dispelled by his explaining what had happened on the field today. Apparently he had performed excellently, outscoring every goalie he was up at the net. Even Danny, who had been at the position since freshman year. Then, when he was on goalie, every shot, no matter who launched it, made it nowhere near the net. Including Jackson’s. He’d made first line without breaking a sweat. So that happened. His being a werewolf was turning out to be a good thing. And he got a date with Allison, the girl from their English class. But there was a funny twisting in Stiles’ gut that told him that things were not going to be this pleasant for Scott. And Deaton shared his thoughts as he weighed in his comments.

  “I trust you found the shop?”

“Yeah, he was hella creepy. Asked for a vial of my blood as payment.”

“I thought it might be something. He is a curious fellow.”

“Speak for yourself old friend.” said a voice from the doorway.

  It was the Keeper. Still a mess of curly hair, he carried a small brown satchel along with a black duffel bag. Deaton eyed him cautiously as he entered. Derek snarled, as did Scott. They didn’t like him either. Stiles didn’t blame them. The dude creeped him out and he didn’t even have freak wolf senses. He could only imagine what they were feeling.

“You neglected to tell me that he was an alpha. No matter, the spell will work just the same. But there is something that can’t be overlooked.”

  “And what’s that?” Stiles asked.

“He’s turned someone. Depending on the circumstances, I’ll have to deal with him once I finish the spell.”

“Deal with him?”

   “There are rules in place governing the turning of an innocent. I take it that Scott didn’t ask for this. As such, it can be considered as an assault. Despite the fact that he is feral and not in his right mind, this will factor into the future. Just so you are aware. But let us begin.”

  The man gave Deaton a curt  nod who then left. Extracting items from his satchel, he began drawing an intricate circle on the floor. When he was done he placed candles in the edges and lit them releasing a sweet odor into the air. After that he began mixing various things in a small black bowl. When that was done, he sliced his wrist and allowed an ample amount of blood to flow into the bowl. Licking the wound clean, he mixed the bodily fluid in the with rest of the ingredients and began chanting. The bowl shone a dim blue then stopped. The candles extinguished themselves as the man twirled his fingers. The smoke from the smothered flames billowed into the air above their heads and formed a dense, grey cloud.

“So what exactly are you planning on doing?” Stile asked with a tremor in his voice.

“This spell is called the Nexu Mentibus. It will help us reach Derek’s human half which he has locked away for so long.”

  “And how does that work?” Scott asked with an edge of anger.

“Essentially, I split my mind in two to create a bridge between Stiles and Derek. Once Stiles crosses into Derek’s mind, he will have to convince the wolf to retreat. After that, Derek’s human side will slowly come back over the course of the week. He will regain memory, speech, and most importantly, proper societal function.”

  “And if I fail?”

“Then I will kill him. He may be friendly now, but he will eventually turn. They always do. So my suggestion, try your damndest to reach him. And do so quickly, for the longer I maintain this spell, the riskier it is. For all of us. Now, step into the circle with Derek and join hands.”

  Stiles motioned for Derek to follow him. The wolf complied without incident, and sat down in front of Stiles. The Keeper removed his shirt and began smearing the mixture from the bowl onto his chest and arms. Stiles tried to ignore the excess of scar tissue as he drew strange symbols on himself. He also tried not to flinch as he began rubbing the mixture on Derek’s forehead and his own. It smelled like mothballs and made his eyes water. Plus there was the fact someone else’s blood was now on his face. He wasn’t gonna puke. No, he wasn’t going to do that. Okay, he might just a little. As Stiles settled, the Keeper sat himself down between Derek and the nauseous teenager. He gripped both their chins and lifted their heads slightly upwards.

“Ready?” he asked.

  Stiles nodded and Derek just snarled. The man began chanting.

_A furor cruentavit, ponte ponam._

_Foderunt altum in somnia mundo._

_Intus invenire lucrosorum operum fucos se ut gaudium._

_Depellendam phantasias, et suggeret patesceret_

_Ease in cruciatum doloris et pacem._

 

The smoke swirled downwards, surrounding Derek, Stiles and The Keeper. Its sweet scent made Stiles’ head spin. The world became a blur and went out of focus. The last thing he remembered was Derek’s eyes fluttering. Then there was a sharp pain at the base of his skull. Then, then there was darkness.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the spell.
> 
> "With blood spilled, a bridge I make.  
> Delve deep into the world of dreams.  
> Find the nightmares that disguise themselves as joy.  
> Dispel the illusion and bring forth clarity.  
> Dispel the torture and bring forth peace."
> 
> The name of the spell means joining of the minds. Essentially, a low level blood magic that allows a person to join their mind with another. Due to the fact that this is highly dangerous, one has to be willing to take a considerable to risk to do so. Hence, the blood spell. In this instance, the Keeper creates a bridge with his own mind so that Stiles can be linked to Derek. Next chapter, Stiles fights to brink Derek back. Also, get ready for the first official Sterek kiss of the piece. Stay Tuned!!!!!


	10. The Big Bad Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles enters Derek's mind to retrieve his human half. What he finds is both fascinating and disturbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for some seriously devestating feels. Like seriously, you're gonna hurt here in a minute. You have been warned.

The first thing that Stiles noticed was white. Endless, unbreaking white. There was no walls or ceiling or floor. Just a seemingly unending sea of white. If he was perfectly honest with himself, it reminded him a little of the Matrix. When Morpheus took Neo into the simulator for the first time. And in a way, this was a simulation. This was Derek’s mind according to the Keeper. And that meant Stiles needed to somehow navigate an ocean of nothingness and find him.

   “Hello?” Stiles shouted. The answer was his voiced echoed back several times over. Other than that, there was a profound silence. One that sent of chill down his spine. Deciding moving was better than nothing. It seemed like an eternity. Stiles walked and walked but really never seemed to move from the same spot he woke up in. Occasionally he would call out, hoping for some form of an answer. It never came. Not unless you counted his echo. And he didn’t. The funny thing is, for as long as he was walking, he didn’t feel tired at all. There was just the desire to move forward, to find Derek and bring him back. He tried calling out one more time. This time, he was answered. It was a small, faint giggle. Like a child. As he searched for the source of the sound, a thing ran past him. He followed it with his eyes. It was a person. A boy no more than five, running around in circles. But there was something off. He was, distorted. Like getting a bad reception of a tv. But the child, who dark hair fluttered as he ran, didn’t seem to notice.

“Derek?” Stiles asked as another voice called the name.

   The boy ran to his left and then there was a man, scooping the child up in his arms, smiling like the sun. That must’ve been Derek’s father. They laughed for several seconds before the image faded into the whiteness. Stiles had just seen one of Derek’s memories. One that he had buried underneath his wolf and years of grief. Now he knew he was on the right track. Increasing his pace, Stiles delved ever deeper into the world of white. Some memories were clearer than others. Those concerning his family were the hardest to see clearly. The cracked and popped, their image coming in and out as Stiles passed by. There was no real difference until he noticed Derek as a teenager. He was, with a girl. She was about Lydia’s size, only with darker hair and a talent for the cello. They hated each other, at first. Then they didn’t. There was a lot of kissing and hugging, an oh. Stiles looked away from that memory. When clothes started coming off, he didn’t need to see anything else. Derek seemed genuinely happy with her. Then, then he wasn’t. She laid in his arms, broken. Black fluid, thick and dark as night, streamed from her eyes, nose, and mouth. She was dying. Derek cried furiously as the rocked her back and forth. The girl, whose name was Paige, let a small whimper before going slack in Derek’s arms. That’s when Derek broke. That’s when the see of white shifted.

  Everything started spinning. Violently spinning. The memory bubbles faded to nothingness as Stiles felt his body be thrown. When he managed to come to his senses, there was a black shape in what seemed to now be the center of the sea of white. It was massive. And, fury? Holy shit. It was a wolf. A wolf the size of a freaking bear. It was snoring lightly, content in its slumber. Stiles inched closer. Little by little, he was upon the wolf until his hand was a mere brush away from its head.

“Derek.” he said as he reached for the creature.

  Its response was to shoot its eyes open and snap at Stiles hand. There was no denying it, the wolf was pissed. His eyes flared a terrifying red. Teeth exposed and growling, Stiles froze. This wasn’t Derek. Not really. This was the side of him that he had retreated into. His human half would only appear if he somehow got the wolf to calm down. And honestly, he had no idea how he was supposed to do that.

   “Hey Derek, it’s me, Stiles. I met you in the woods. You snuggled me. I fed you chuck steak.”

Derek’s response was a fierce and unrestrained growl. So the same tactic when he’d found Derek injured wasn’t going to work that easily here.

  “Was that your family. I saw your dad with you. He picked you up and swung you round. You laughed and he smiled like you were the most perfect thing in the world. Then there was the one where you were playing with Elijah. You little brother. He was human wasn’t he? That’s why you were so gentle with him. Because he couldn’t heal like the others. Even when no one wanted to play with him, you did. You played with him even though he wasn’t a wolf. Because that was your brother. And you loved him all the same. Do you remember Derek?”

   The wolf’s growl lowered. There was less teeth, and Stiles managed to get to his feet again. He dared to move a little closer.

  “Then, there was Laura, your older sister. She never had any time to play. Your mom was training her to be, an alpha. It was kinda required since she was the first born. But when she did play, boy did she ever. Chasing all of you around the house and the yard. Your cousins joined in. Peter, your uncle, he would break up the little play fights and make sure no one was really hurt. You didn’t like it when he did that. You wanted to keep playing with everyone. But eventually, you’d give up and go to bed. That’s when your dad would come in and read you and your brothers and sisters stories. He was human, like Elijah. But that didn’t matter. He was family. Family you don’t have anymore.”

  At the mention of his loss, wolf Derek snarled loudly and snapped at Stiles. It missed him only barely. Stiles could feel the hot breath from his muzzle graze his skin. The wolf wasn’t going to give up without a fight. But neither was Stiles.

“Listen, Derek. I know you hurt. I know you faced more loss than any one person should have to endure. But it’s time to come home.”

   Wolf Derek shook his if to say, what home?

“With me. Remember? I’ve been helping you. Trying so hard to bring you back so you could be safe. There are hunters Derek. You can’t just run off and hide in the woods. You need to be able to defend yourself. If not for that, then come back for Scott. You bit him and now he’s like you. He’s gonna need help with all this werewolf business cause I’m just shooting in the dark here. I can’t help you and my best friend and I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you. That’s not fair. Don’t make me do that Derek.”

   The wolf let his snarl turn to a low mumble and fade. He was still on alert and intent on not letting Stiles anywhere near him. But that wasn’t gonna work. Stiles felt he was running out of time. The Keeper said this spell was dangerous to maintain. So he did something stupid. Launching himself towards Derek, he wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and squeezed. The wolf bit and clawed where he could reach. Even though Stiles was only an apparition in Derek’s mind, he still felt everything. Every slash, bite and tear. But he didn’t let go. He just buried his face into Derek and sighed. The wolf froze at the embrace. His fur was soft and there was a small sound coming from the back of his throat. Stiles let go and the wolf turned to meet him. Rather than a fierce red, they were bright hazel green. There were Derek’s human eyes. It had worked. That weird, simple nuzzling thing worked. Somehow, Stiles knew that Derek would remember that.

“Let’s go home.” the mangled teenager said.

   Stiles opened his eyes to see the Keeper vomiting tar. Scott wrinkling his nose in disgust. Derek, well Derek was passed out on the floor. Deaton came running in just as Stiles was by the wolf’s side. His face was, normal. No weird, furrowed brow or pointed ears. There was a reasonable amount of hair along his jaw. The fangs were gone to. It had worked. Derek was back. His breathing was soft and even and Stiles imagined it was the first truly restful sleep that the man had in six years.

   “Welcome back buddy.”

At hearing Stiles’ voice, Derek’s eyes shot open. They were that same green as when the spell was still active. It was a beautiful color that couldn’t decide whether it was just one shade or three. Stiles was just beginning to admire it when Derek’s lips were on his. The kiss was messy and full of teeth and spit and in no way enjoyable. Derek’s arms were wrapped tightly around Stiles and the only thing Stiles could think to do was to knee him in the groin. The wolf leapt back with a yelp as Stiles regained his footing. Derek look dejected and somewhat heartbroken. But that didn’t stop him from trying again. Stiles put his hand to the wolf’s chest, halting his advance.

“What the hell is wrong with you Derek?” he asked knowing now that he could answer.

“Mate.” Derek said through clamped teeth. The word came out harshly and not to gracefully. But he had said the word mate.

   “Derek, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Stiles proposed. Derek accepted. So now, Stiles is mate.”

There was a shrill chuckle from the other side of the room. The Keeper had recovered himself and was wiping the last of the tar from his mouth, grinning wickedly as he did so.

“I told you to be careful with him. Now you’ve started something that can’t be stopped. Brace yourself my dear boy. You’re in for one hell of a ride.”

   Stiles was about to say something when Derek wrapped himself around the befuddled boy and nuzzled his neck. Scott gaped and Deaton gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingers. There was some serious explaining to be had. But first, he needed to figure out how to remove a 220lb. werewolf from his waist. A werewolf that had just kissed him. A dude werewolf that had just kissed him. And if Stiles was perfectly honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure he was horrified at the idea.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best first kiss but it'll do. There will be many more to come. Like a lot and not just kisses if you know what I mean. *INSERT PERVERT GRIN*


	11. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns the meaning behind his behavior and is forced to come to a decision. One that will change his life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're gonna lose your shit in this chapter. Have fun.

Stiles’ head was spinning. The sudden influx of information was a lot to take in. It helped that Derek had finally released him from his nuzzling death grip. It was only after the choicest anger from the Keeper that he relented. Even though Derek was back in his human form, speech was still a difficult thing to achieve. With assurances from the Keeper that it would return within the next few days, Stiles sat down and endured the explanation and by the time it was done, he felt just a tad bit nauseous. Scott was also looking worse for wear and Deaton just looked annoyed. The Keeper, of course, giggled with amusement.

   “So let me get this straight. I, in werewolf terms, proposed to Derek?”

“Yes.”

   “And him kissing me was his way of accepting?”

“Yes.”

   “And now, in the simplest terms possible, we’re engaged?”

“Yes.”

   “Okay, you’re gonna have to run this by me again, because at no point did I pull out a fucking ring.”

“Fine but this time, pay attention. Wolves, while mostly human, have traditions. The way they find a mate is a homage to their animal nature. It starts with gestures of affection. Marking each other, sighting courtship. Which, according to you, you did. The nuzzling that it. Second, they are required to show capabilities as a provider. You brought Derek food, and that’s essentially what that means. And then of course there was the caretaking. In short, when he was injured, you brought him to safety, cleaned his wounds, helped him heal. You kept him safe. Later when he bit you on the jaw, to him, that was the ultimate sign of affection. One that you unknowingly returned. When his human side came back, he responded in the only way he could remember that would convey his feelings and his acceptance. In other words, the kiss.”

   Stiles felt his stomach turn in knots. He was sixteen. He couldn’t be engaged. His dad would kill him. Plus, Derek was a werewolf. That was gonna be kinda of hard to explain to the family. What would you even sight for wedding presents? A doggy bed? Jesus, this was too much. This was more than any one teenager should ever have to endure. He just rescued an alpha werewolf, who he was now engaged to, and his best friend was now a werewolf. But Scott seemed to have a more level head than everyone else in the room.

  “Is there any way to reverse it?”

“I don’t take your meaning.” the Keeper replied.

  “Call it off I mean. Tell Derek, that Stiles didn’t mean what he thought he meant.”

“If you’re talking about rejection, that would be most unwise.” the Keeper said flatly.

  “And how’s that?”

“Derek has just come back after six years of running feral. Even after his speech and memories come back, he will still struggle with his instincts for some time. If Stiles were to reject him, to withdraw his proposal, Derek will seek other means of filling the void in his heart.”

   “Void?” Stiles asked.

“Alphas have an inborn need for a pack. Betas, if you will. Whether to turn them, adopt them, or procreate to allow them to be born, it is a desire that cannot be suppressed. The only reason he hasn’t done so in six years was because he was too smothered by pain and grief. Should Stiles not follow through, to some degree at least, with this engagement, Derek will begin turning people merely from base instinct. For the time being, it would be best to allow the engagement to continue. Not finalize, of course. Just give Derek time to return the courtship, that way, Stiles has ample time to make his decision. As once it is made, it is final and there is no going back.”

   “And how would Stiles “finalize” the engagement?”

“With sex of course.”

   “Excuse me!?” Stiles blurted.

“When the courtship is complete, the wolf who initiated the  proposal consummates the union in the most physical way possible. Which of course leads to another problem. Traditionally, an alpha’s mate is also a wolf. This way, should they have children, the likelihood of their being wolves is increased. It also legitimizes the mate’s status as an alpha’s equal. It leaves no room for challenge. If Stiles were to accept, Derek might desire his turning. Of course, you could always ask.”

  Scott moved to say, more likely shout, something to the Keeper when Stiles raised his hand. He needed a minute to think. First, he was engaged to Derek in terms of werewolves. Second, the next step was to allow Derek to court him, returning the gestures that Stiles had performed. Third, if and when Stiles accepted the courtship, he was to finalize it. Which meant sex. Sex with Derek. Derek who was a werewolf and might want him to be a werewolf to and not to mention that he was nearly six years older than Stiles. Lastly, if the union was finalized, they were stuck together, for good. But at the same time, he wasn’t sure he wanted that. Nothing against Derek, but being bound to one person for the rest of his life wasn’t that enticing. He was still a virgin for Christ’s sake. Then there was the thing about betas that the Keeper mentioned. If Derek felt rejected, he would be lonely. And then he would start turning people. That was an uncomfortable thought. Scott was more than enough. He couldn’t imagine the idea of more werewolves running around. Needless to say, this was a choice that would have negative consequences either way.

    “Have you made your choice little one?” the Keeper asked.

“Give him a few days to think about it. You just told him he has to have sex with guy. A guy who also happens to be a werewolf.” Scott snapped.

   Stiles ignored both of them as he moved towards Derek. The man perked to attention as he Stiles got closer. His bright, impossibly green eyes shone in the light of the exam room. No matter how much of an animal he had been over the last six years, he was human now. A human that could listen to reason and come to an understanding with Stiles. And that’s what needed to happen. Stiles couldn’t decide right now. It was too big of a choice to make hastily. But at the same time, he’d worked so hard to rescue Derek. He didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone. He’d spent nearly a decade isolated from the rest of the world. He needed a friend right now. And that’s what Stiles could be, a friend. Maybe with a little kissing and snuggling, but that was okay. So long as Derek didn’t get too handsy, then he would be okay. Cause if he was perfectly honest, there was a part of him that like that idea. But he wasn’t quite ready to seal the deal just yet.

   “Derek, I recognize your acceptance. You may begin courting me, I guess if that’s the right term.”

Before anyone could say anything, Stiles included, Derek was wrapped around the young teen, lips pressed to his. This time round, it was neater. Less rushed and less forceful. Stiles tried his best to return the favor, but wasn’t really sure that he was doing anything right. It was when Derek attempted to pry his mouth open and insert his tongue that Stiles had an issue.

  “Hold it there buddy. We’re taking things as SLOW as possible. So keep your little wiggly in your mouth for the time being okay. Let’s get you home.”

“You’re taking him back to the preserve?” Scott asked

   “No I’m taking him back to my house.”

“WHAT!?”

“Look Scott, he’s doing better now. He’s isn’t that bad. I’m sure he would listen. Plus, it’s the only place he can go. His house is a no go. He can’t stay here, Deaton’s got a business to run. Unless you want to take him to your house.”

   Scott shut up after that. Deaton gave his regards and handed Stiles a satchel full of the same vials that he’d used on Derek. Plus several jars of mountain ash in case he needed to be contained. Scott hugged him tightly and moved to leave but was trapped by Derek who crushed him in a tight embrace. Scott endured the scent marking for a few seconds before forcing himself out from Derek. Lastly there was the Keeper. He didn’t say much. Just that Stiles should be careful in his choice. And that he would be in touch within the next few days. Said that it had something to do with the lock on his shop door. Stiles ignored that and asked about the duffle bag. The man said he was simply returning something that belonged to an old acquaintance. Stiles dismissed the vague answer and left with Derek. The older man kissed him the entire way, up and down his neck and jaw. When they got to the Jeep, stiles basically had to pry himself from his wolf’s clutches. Sitting him down in the passenger seat, Derek remembered the concept of a seatbelt and how to sit correctly. His wolf was coming back. Maybe a little slower than he liked, but he was coming back. The only question that remained was what was going to happen when Derek was fully Derek and no longer struggling with the wolf. Stiles pondered that as he drove away. Just as he turned away from the clinic he saw the Keeper leaving. And he swore, though he didn’t want to, he saw something leaking from that duffel bag. Something thick and red that looked an awful lot like blood.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Stiles and Derek are courting!!!! For the moment until Stiles decides what he wants to do. And what's in that bag the Keeper is toting around and who is he taking it to? Just wait and see. It involves our favorite hunter family and an ancient treaty. This is gonna be good.


	12. Tense Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keeper visits the Argent family concerning the matter of the thief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a whole lot going on this chapter. I apologize for that.

 

The drive back home was uneventful. Derek remained quiet, never saying a word. Though he did keep a hand on Stiles at all times. He seemed to crave contact above all else. It was like a comfort gesture. As if the mere touch of skin was soothing. It didn’t bother Stiles. In fact, he seemed to greatly enjoy the sensation. When they pulled in the driveway, the sheriff's cruiser was absent. He hadn’t gotten home yet. That was good. It meant Stiles could get Derek inside without being noticed. The house was quiet and Derek followed Stiles into his room without incident. He sat on the bed, as f waiting for something. It didn’t take Stiles long to realize what he wanted.

  “Um, no. Sorry buddy, there will be none of that. We discussed this.”

“Stiles doesn’t want Derek?”

  “Not exactly. I mean, you’re perfectly attractive. It’s just that, I’ve never been with someone like that. And, if I’m honest, I don’t like the idea of losing my v-card to someone who feels like it’s an obligation. Does that make sense?”

Derek puzzled to himself before answering.

   “Stiles, does not want to feel, guilty?”

“More like regret. This is a big deal.I’m not the type to take this kind of thing lightly. We do this, we’re tied together, forever. And that means, that means a lot Derek. I’d rather wait until you’re completely yourself. Do you understand?”

  Derek didn’t answer. Instead, he rose from the bed, and stood in front of Stiles. His eyes quivered with something that Stiles couldn’t quite place. It was something between ecstatic joy and confused misery. As if he couldn’t decide how to feel. It hurt Stiles to see that, to see his wolf-man in that kind of pain. So he did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms around Derek and hugged him. He held him tight and didn’t let go. The man melted into the embrace, sighing deeply as the teenager’s warmth flow into him. He smelled of spice and green things. A deep, rich scent  that reminded Stiles of leaves falling in Autumn. Derek seemed to greatly enjoy the way he smelled too, if the sniffing was any indication. Then there was the jaw biting.

“Okay, we’re gonna have to talk about that. Not exactly the most comfortable way of saying I’m into you.”

  Derek smiled as he pressed his lips to Stiles. It was quick and chaste, nothing more than a sign of affection. Stiles leaned into it and returned the smile.

“Okay buddy, it’s getting late, and I have school tomorrow. Let’s get to bed.”

Derek’s smile widened at the word bed and Stiles had to remind him of their agreement. Stiles stripped and changed into a pair of sleep pants and threw a pair of ragged sweats to Derek. He looked away with red cheeks as Derek got naked and put the pants on. He seemed to be  grasping the concept of clothing. That was good. It meant progress. Climbing into bed, Stiles felt the other side press down as hs wolf-man curled next to him. Laying his head on the boy’s chest, he let out a contented sigh.

“Derek home.” he said softly.

  Stiles smiled. He ran through Derek’s hair and the man purred in response. It felt right. It felt good. And it didn’t take long for the boy and his friend to fall asleep.

****************************************************************************************************

 

The night was young and cool, a gentle breeze wafting through the air. The moon hung in the cloudless sky, a glowing near orb of white light. It would be full in three days time. And that was a concern. It would be Derek’s first moon out of his feral stage. After spending so much time as nothing more than a beast, it sat sour in the man’s stomach to think how he would handle it. Then again, the wolf now had a chosen mate. Even though they had not consummated, the grounding it would provide was some manner of a comfort. Scott however was another matter entirely. Right now, his concerns lay with the items in his duffel and who they needed to be delivered to.

   The house was reasonably sized for a hunter family. The lights still being on was all the answer he needed. He knocked three times, a girl answering the door. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Fresh faced and beautiful, she smiled oddly at the Keeper.

  “Yes?”

“Apologies for the intrusion, but is Chris Argent at home? I need to speak with him.”

“Who should I say is calling?”

“Simon Hathersford.”

   Before the girl could get her father, the man appeared at the door, a stern look on his face. He wasn’t happy to say the least. And that was saying something. In the stories he heard of Chris, he’s always been a composed man. Not anymore.

“Allison, sweetie, go upstairs while Simon and I talk please.”

  The girl obeyed and went to her room as the hunter lead the man inside. The space was warm and well lit. In the living room sat a fierce looking woman with red hair. He legs were well defined by a pin stripe skirt.  The other female had brown hair, a look of smugness and couldn’t care less who was here. Chris however, did. he stood in front of the man, keeping several feet between them, hand on his gun.

“Any particular reason for your visit?”

   “I believe this belongs to you.” the Keeper said throwing the duffel into the man’s arms.

Upon opening it, he swallowed the vomit that was rising in his throat. In the bag lay a head, eyeless and with its tongue cut out. Mutilated beyond the point of recognition. And Chris was sure even if the head had been intact, he wouldn’t know who it was.

   “I caught that trying to steal from me. And as you know, that is never a good idea given who I am.”

“And who are you?” the younger female asked.

“I have many names as I have lived many lives. But the one you would recognize is the Keeper. The Book Keeper to be precise.”

  Both women flinched backwards and Chris’ hand tightened over his gun. The man just smiled.

   “We don’t know him. So why bring him here?”

“Several reasons. First, because after a lengthy questioning, he told me that he worked for a member of the Argent family. And then there was what he was trying to steal. Which was this.” he said taking a jar out of his coat.

“Know what it is?”

“No.”

“Hangman’s Root. A very powerful ingredient from the Old World. Very few people know how to use this, even fewer know where to find it. It had one specific use. To make poisons. Exceedingly powerful poisons. Potent enough to kill even an alpha.”

  “And why would you think we were after an alpha?” the hunter asked.

“Do not take me for a fool. Your family has not been Beacon Hills for some time. And now, this man shows up and tries to steal from me just as it is discovered that Derek Hale is alive after all.”

  The younger female perked to attention while her older counterpart stood stone still. Chris was on alert. They had absolutely no idea. None whatsoever. That was something.

“He’s dead.”

“Afraid not, I saw him only hours ago. In good health. Without a pack, but safe and sound all the same. So that begs the question, why are you here?”

“That’s our business.” the older female answered.

“And mine. Derek Hale had harmed no one. And therefore, according to your code, you cannot touch him. Attempt to do so, and you will suffer the consequences.”

   “Hard for that to happen when you have a bullet in your head.” the younger female taunted.

   The Keeper’s eyes flashed silver and the gun was torn from the hunter’s hand and flown across the room. Chris moved to fire when his gun was lost as well. A pulse of energy shot through the room causing the lights to flicker ominously.

“I have not lived for the better part of 1,500 years to be insulted by the likes of you. So listen well. Derek Hale is to be left untouched. Any further harm comes to him, I will obliterate your family. Do you understand?”

“Further harm?” the elder woman asked.

“When I discovered him, there was an arrow lodged in his chest. The head had your family’s emblem on it. So it was someone is this room, or someone working for someone is this room. The alpha is safe now, and he will stay that way.”

   “He’s an alpha?” the younger female asked.

“His mother and older sister died in that fire. Thus the title passed to him. And now, he’s back, looking for the one’s who decimated his family.”

   “That fire was an accident.”

“So you say. Know this, should I learn that your family was in any way responsible for that fire, you will all die. Your existence erased. Your name struck from the history books. And with that I say goodnight. Try not to kill anything while I’m gone.”

   The Keeper left, satisfied that he had terrified the hunters properly. And as he stepped out, he noticed the hunter’s daughter, Allison. She was leaning over the balcony, eyeing him intently. He smiled and flashed his eyes sliver. That she make an interesting conversation come the morning.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap the Keeper is getting creepier each and every chapter. What am I gonna do with him?


	13. The Mistake of Rashness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek have sexy times that ends badly. And Stiles finds Isaac in less that perfect conditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels and smut. That's all you need to know.

Stiles woke with the sun, the light shining in through the window. He felt warm and snugged, content to lay in his bed forever. Except, he really needed to pee. There was only one problem. There was currently a very large werewolf enveloping him in a cocoon of muscle and intense body heat. He tried easing his way out, nudging Derek. Of course with him being a buck forty seven, it made little matter to his wolf.

   “Derek, buddy. I need to get up. I’ve got school.”

The older man stirred, eyes fluttering from the throes of sleep. He yawned and stretched his body, popping what needed to be popped and cracking what needed cracking. Upon meeting eyes with Stiles, his face lit up like the fourth of July. It was a brilliant and profound smile of unbridled joy. As if Stiles were the most wonderful thing in the world. And to Derek, he was.

   “Mate.” Derek said as he climbed over Stiles to rest on top of him. Stiles moved to make a comment when stubbled lips met his. This wasn’t the rushed needy kiss or the more careful one that Derek employed when he realized that it meant. This kiss had purpose. It sent a wave of knots into Stiles’ stomach. They twisted their way down into his groin where a certain part of his anatomy was waking up. He knew that if they did this, despite how awesome it would feel, they would be no going back. Even with his hormone addled brain he could see that. He broke the kiss, just as Derek poised himself for tongue.

   “Um, even if I didn’t have to get ready for school, this isn’t a good idea Derek. Do you understand?”

“We cannot mate. Stiles not ready.”

   “Yeah, that’s about it. Thanks for understanding.”

“But we can do, non-mating things? Yes?”

“And those would be what?” Stiles asked.

   Instead of answering, Derek plunged his hand down past the waist of Stiles pants and gripped firmly.

“Holy shit!”

   Derek’s hands were hot and smooth, and worked glorious sex magic over Stiles. The teenager moans were cut short as his lovers lips met his. Drowned in a meeting of tongue, Stiles hardly noticed that his pants were being removed. He felt hands trace every line of his body, exploring, discovering. Taking note of every last mole, scar, and dimple. Then, there was tongue. Derek started at his neck, moving to his collarbone and to his nipples. And holy shit did that feel good. Kissing his way down, Derek paused at the boy’s navel and smiled. Stiles whined with anticipation as Derek buried his nose into the boy’s groin, taking time to enjoy the scent of his mate. Then, his member was enveloped in intense heat and moisture. Derek started slowly. Working Stiles into a frenzy. Fisting his hands in the sheets, his hips bucked upwards, thrusting into the wolf’s mouth. But Derek didn’t care. This was his end game. To let his mate know just how much he loved him. He encouraged the teenager forward, taking more and more each thrust. Stiles bottomed out in Derek’s throat and seizing the opportunity, Derek let his tongue wash over his lover’s sack, tasting the sweat of arousal that had built there.

   “Oh, fuck. Derek, you might wanna stop. I think I’m gonna-”

He didn’t have a chance to finish. Stiles vision whited out and his body locked into the most intense orgasm of his life. Rope of after rope shot down Derek’s throat who hummed contently at the taste of his mate. Stiles relaxed into the afterglow as Derek kissed his way back up his stomach and chest.

    “That was amazing.”

Derek growled lightly, as he moved to Stiles’ neck. He tongued and kissed until every last inch was covered in love and lust. Then he bit down onto the boy’s jaw and worked his way down to his neck once more.

   “Hey buddy, as much as I enjoyed that, I don’t think I can go again. And I promise when I get home, you’ll get as good as you gave.”

Derek ignored him in favor of chomping down on the juncture of Stiles neck and shoulder. The boy gave a shout, as he felt teeth press harshly down into his pale flesh. He panicked, so he did the only thing he could think of. He brought a knee up into Derek’s backside sending a shockwave of pain shooting up his spine. The wolf yelped and leapt off of Stiles who scrambled from the bed, hand on where he had just been bitten. There was no blood, which means the skin hadn’t been broken. Looking at Derek, his face was human, so there was no way he could have been turned. He was still pissed.

    “What the hell Derek? That fucking hurt!”

“Mate.”

“That doesn’t answer everything Derek. Use your words goddammit.”

   “Mates must be marked. Lets other wolves- Is warning. Way to keep mate safe.”

“Well next time ask. If I had known that was gonna be your method, I probably would’ve said no.”

   Derek looked heartbroken as Stiles rushed past him. Foregoing a shower he simply threw on a white t-shirt with a flannel. Slipping on some jeans who grabbed his backpack and stomped out the door. Just before he left, he turned to Derek who looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“We’ll talk about this when we get home. Just stay here, in my room. If you get hungry there’s food in the kitchen. Just don’t make too much a mess okay.”

   Derek nodded, and Stiles rushed out the door to his Jeep. He drove a little faster that what could be deemed safe. But he didn’t care. The first blowjob of his life had been ruined by a werewolf’s crazing protective rituals. Part of him understood that Derek was still reeling from being stuck as a wolf for six years, and he couldn’t be too mad. But then the other part was pissed. The bite still throbbed and it burned a little. He’d have to look at it when he got to school. When he did in fact arrive, Jackass was harassing Scott. As he got closer, he could hear bits of the conversation. Something about lacrosse. Upon seeing Stiles, captain of the douche squad hightailed it out. Scott walked up to Stiles and stopped dead in his tracks. Stiles was confused until he saw his friends eyes. They were burning a bright gold and his nostrils flared.

   “Scott calm down. I don’t know what you can smell with your freaky wolf nose, but we didn’t have sex. Well, not sex-sex per say. But, come on let’s get inside before someone sees you.

They went straight to the boys locker room, it was empty this time of the morning. Stiles may have been off the team, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be here. He could only hope that coach wasn’t around.

“So you’re probably wondering what happened.”

    “Dude, you reek of him. It’s so weird.”

“Well, to alleviate your concerns, we didn’t have sex. He just, well, he kinda sort of blew me.”

   “What?” Scott declared.

“A blowjob, Scott. Derek gave me a blowjob. He wanted to try and push the whole mating thing again, and I told him no. That’s when he came up with a different idea. Though I kinda wish he hadn’t bitten me. Would’ve been nice to let that experience stay as it is. Oh, don’t look at me like that. If it had been that kind of bite, you know I wouldn’t be here. It didn’t even break the skin. It just hurt like hell.”

   Unsettled at Stiles story, Scott checked the bite and determined that Stiles just needed to ice it to reduce the swelling. It would hurt for a few days and it would bruise like hell, but he’d be fine. They were just poised to leave when there was a small, cut off sound coming from the showers. Stiles went into find a boy, hunched on the ground, crying for all he was worth.

“Isaac?”

At the mention of his name, Isaac scrambled backwards smacking his head on the shower wall, rendering him unconscious. Stiles pulled out his phone and called 911. Had it been any other circumstances, he would’ve just gotten coach. But this was different. Isaac was covered in bruises that he knew weren’t from lacross. There were cuts and welts and most of all, the burns. The boy’s body was a testament of abuse. The EMT’s arrived shortly after that and Stiles rode with them in case Isaac woke up. They were no where near friends. In fact, they had hardly ever spoken two words to each other. Even when they were on the field. But he knew that when Isaac woke up, he’d want to see a familiar face. He told Scott to go to  his house after school. There was no telling how long he was gonna be in the hospital.

   They arrived quickly, Stiles finding Melissa the moment he walked in. She called his dad as Stiles waited for the doctors to come back. The sheriff walked in just as Isaac got out of x-ray. At least three broken ribs, deep tissue abrasions across his chest and back. Then there was the scars. From where he’d been beaten with a belt so hard that it cut him. The burns were from cigarettes. Stiles swallowed back vomit as the doctor continued. Isaac had been systematically tortured. When they asked him who was responsible, he wailed and wailed until Stiles pushed past the doctors and went inside. The boy calmed down after seeing a Stiles and composed himself to answer. The sheriff wasted no time in issuing a warrant for the arrest of Isaac’s father. With the x-rays and physical examination, there was plenty of evidence to lock that bastard away for good. He relaxed enough to sit with Isaac who allowed the morphine to do it’s job. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Stiles was well on his way when he got a call from Scott.

“Yeah, buddy. What’s up?”

   “Derek’s not here.”

“WHAT?!”

“He’s gone Stiles. He isn’t here.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm betting your mad. I had no intention of making Stiles' and Derek's relationship an easy one. They'll have to overcome a lot including Stiles' reservations and Derek's wolf side. Isaac just kinda happened this chapter. Sorry if it sucked. But he has a major part to play. Just give me a little more time.


	14. Making Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds Derek with the help of the Keeper. And it leads to a frightening conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels, prepare for them. You have been warned.

 

Two days. Two days had turned up nothing. Derek was nowhere to be found. Neither high or low. There was no trace of Stiles’ wolf-man. It hadn’t ended well. The full moon came and went. Stiles had to watch his best friend endure his first transformation alone. Deaton did the obvious thing and locked him inside a ring of mountain ash, preventing him from going anywhere. The young wolf howled and screamed in ways Stiles didn’t think possible. It hurt to watch. Despite the fact that he could not move more than a few feet, he tried so desperately to reach Stiles. Snarling, clawing at empty air. He was trying to kill him. His best friend was trying to kill him. And dear god, it hurt. The next morning, when Scott had come to, there were tears. They embraced and cried until the emotional fallout had subsided. Then, the remembrance of one missing Derek came flying back. They had no leads and no clues. So Stiles did the unthinkable. He called the Keeper. The one person who could have any hope of finding the unfindable. He showed up, satchel in tow, looking disgruntled. He was less than pleased to be here.

   “There had better be a very good reason I am here. I rather enjoy my sleep, and you have disrupted that.”

“Derek’s missing.” Stiles stated simply.

His eyes perked to attention at the boy’s words. Removing items from his satchel, he began mixing things of an unknown nature. After a few minutes of this, he turned to Stiles, a quizzical look on his face.

    “Anything that I need to know before we begin? And I don’t want you to spare any of the details.”

“We, had a fight.”

   “A lover’s quarrel?” he snickered.

“We were, intimate. And afterwards, he bit me. Not like werewolf biting. He was human. Said something about marking.”

   “Well, that’s understandable. Gestures of romantic affection differ from wolf to human. I’m guessing that you shouted and most likely hurt him. Emotionally, he’s shattered. He’s retreating away again. We need to find him before that spell dissipates.”

“Spell?” Stiles inquired.

   “The blood magic I used to make the bridge. Such spells leave traces of power and that power can be used for a variety of purposes. In this instance. I’m going to create a tether between Derek and yourself. This way, you can see through his eyes, hear through his ears. Discover where he is quickly, as it will only last a few minutes. Understand?”

Stiles nodded as the man began smearing another mixture on his face, arms, and hands. It smelled more like spice and mint than anything else and it was far more pleasant that the last one. He waved his hands around Stiles, the mixture warming as he did so. It tingled oddly as it got hotter and hotter. When it felt like sunburn on his skin, that warmth stopped and the mixture cooled rapidly. Then, with a snap of his fingers, it evaporated. Placing his hands, on the side of Stiles’ head, he began chanting.

Trans quod vasteness loquor.

Coniungere me deperditi.

Afferte mihi amore negâtus.

malebat quæ ad me.

 

There was a jolt at the back of his head and then there was a profound sense of weightlessness. He was floating. There was nothing, and then, he was heavy. A dark energy, subtle and damning. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Archaic bins of decades old chemicals mixed with the smell of dust and dead rodents. There was no light, only that which came through the window. It was faint and dim, hardly giving anything. It was cold and old and smelled of factory. Like steel and rust and oil. He was in the loneliest place possible. Away from the sun. Away from people. Away from his mate.

   Stiles came back to himself, trying not to vomit from his senses reeling. There was only one place he could be. The old industrial district of Beacon Hills. It shut down long before he was born and now it stood as a testament to what the town used to be. It was abandoned and was mostly used as a hangout for teenagers who were up to less than benign activities. Judging by the chemical smell, it had to be the old processing plant. Stiles didn’t waste time in leaving the clinic. He barely got the Keeper’s warning about how he should stay calm. The Jeep remained loyal and the young teen found himself at the edges of Beacon Hills rushing into the abandoned factory. It smelled worse when he was actually there. He coughed at the stench of dust and age and chemical refuse. He could only imagine what his wolf man was going through.

  “Derek, where are you?”

Only the echo answered him. It bounced off the walls, coming back to him. It rattled in the rafters and shook the windows. There was nothing but the silence that resounded so deep in his bones that he shivered. He needed to find his wolf, needed to make amends. He reacted badly and now all that he had done was in jeopardy. Even if he couldn’t be what Derek wanted him to be, he needed to be there for Scott.

   “Derek, I know you can hear me. Where the hell are you?”

“Go home Stiles.”

The voice was clean and smooth and complete. There was no trace of hesitation, or fear. It was even, beautifully husky and deep. Derek had come back to himself. He was speaking in full sentences now. This may be easier than he thought.

 “Derek, please. We need to talk. About what happened. And what needs to happen next.”

There was a rustling, and then a figure appeared out of the shadows. It was Derek, well groomed and clean looking. He was wearing actual clothes and had his hair done and everything about him was perfect. Except for the scowl on his face. His firm jaw was twisted in an expression of intense anger and frustration. It sort of hurt Stiles to see that. His usual, cuddly wolf man was mad. And it made his stomach knot into itself.

“Why are you here Stiles?”

“You know why Derek. What happened, what’s happening. I need to know where we stand. I mean, this is kind of important.”

    “What’s to know. You found me. Helped me, proposed to me without knowing. Then, in all that maddening chaos, I bit your friend. Turned him. Then you contacted some god awful sorcerer, who used blood magic, a profane and disgusting art, to bring me back. Then, while still reeling from my wolf senses, accepted your unwitting proposal. Then I proceeded to violate your body and then bit you in an act of marking my territory. We fought and I left. And that’s how it’s going to happen. I’m going to leave and we’ll never see each other again. Ever.”

   Derek turned to move and Stiles stopped him. The man was bigger and most definitely stronger. But he didn’t try and push or move Stiles. They stood there, staring, honey brown eyes to deep evergreen ones. No words were spoken. Nothing between them but the tension of unsaid desires and thoughts. The air was thick. It was suffocating. Breathing hurt, his lungs burned with anticipation. But he knew what he had to say.

“You know there’s more than that.I found you, half mad, scared of everything that moved or breathed. Except, when you saw me. You didn’t run. You, snuggled me for Christ’s sake. And when I came back, I fed you to let you know that I cared. I buried your family. I try to give you closure. Because I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t going to leave. Derek, I’ve been there. I know the pain of feeling alone in the world. And I know that you need someone. Anyone who can be there.”

   Derek’s anger and frustration came to head as he pushed Stiles away. The boy tumbled to the ground, shocked with a pain shooting up his back. He felt tears in his eyes as he stood back up, facing the angry wolf in front of him.

“What do you know about being alone? My family burned! My mother, my father, my siblings, my cousins, everyone! I lost everything. What makes you think you can do anything?”

    “I lost my mom the same time you lost your family. But she didn’t just die. I watch her waste away. Her brain had started to degrade. Little by little, everything that she was died. She wasted into nothingness. In so much pain that the drugs that doctors gave her numbed her so much that she couldn’t even remember the name of her son and her husband. She was so confused, so terrified. Towards the end of her life, she didn’t even remember her own name. Every day she would wake up, screaming. She didn’t know where she was, why she was in a hospital. Or even that she had been there for months. And then, one day, she was gone. Just like that. A light snuffed out. We buried her, in the rain. And that’s when I died. My mother was my world. The one that understood me when no one else could. My soul shattered and I closed myself off from the world. No one could reach me. Not my dad, not Scott. It took them almost a year to get me to even say more than two words to anyone. They woke me up, brought me back from my own misery. And that’s what I’m trying to do with you.”

   There was silence. Derek’s eyes went dark, his lips quivered with sadness. His mate was hurting. He was hurting and he didn’t know what to do. Years of pain, years of isolation turned him sour. And he couldn’t do anything but turn away.

“I’m sorry Stiles. I’m just, sorry. I can’t have this. Not now. It won’t work. We can’t be what I want us to be. There’s nothing that can happen from this.”

   The wolf turned to leave. His pace slow and even. He left Stiles, crying and aching. Emotions so turbulent that there were no words left. At least for Derek. Stiles had plenty to say. Something red exploded at the back of his head and strangled his brain. Sadness was replaced by anger and a pure unhindered rage that left room for nothing else.

    “Don’t you walk away from me. You don’t get to do this to me!” he shouted.

The air crackled with electricity. Derek stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, eyes wide with fear. He knew what came next. And is had him stone still.

“Stiles, calm down.”

   “No, fuck you. You wanna forget us, fine. You wanna forget that you rubbed your grimy, dirt covered face over me, okay. Or that I helped you come back from yourself, that’s cool. But you will not abandon my friend. Your turned him, made him like you. And you know what I had to do? I had to watch him scream his head off, trying desperately to escape, move, anything. He was so terrified and I couldn’t do anything. And when he came to, he didn’t stop crying. You made this mess, now fix it!”

   An unseen thing launched Derek through the air and sent him into a wall. The area was slammed with pressure of unknown origins. Cracks slid their way into the ground and walls, the very foundation of the building seemed to shake. Stiles burned with a color somewhere between rage and despair. He cried vicious tears, screamed for all he was worth, and he let the world know just how furious he was.

   “And you know the best part Derek? Not only did I save a werewolf, who I proposed to, who turned my friend into a werewolf, my dad is drowning in debt. On top of everything, of every stupid little thing that my life had become, I won’t have a house much longer. My dad will lose his job. And your moping and feeling sorry for yourself. Grow the fuck up! We’ve both lost, we’ve both felt pain. I moved on. And now, for the first time in six years someone is trying to help you. So what do you do? You run. You hide. You discard the people who tried to heal you. Fine ignore me. Disregard my feelings. But you will come back to the clinic. And you will help Scott. Whether you like it or not!”

   The air settled, Stiles hair lost its edge. The electricity faded. Derek was able to stand, tears in his eyes. Same as Stiles. There was nothing left to say, only left to do. Derek approached the boy, hesitation in his steps. Stiles was still fuming, anger in his fists. He let his wolf embrace him. The warmth of his arms brought him back to what he needed to be. The emotion settled and then there was the breaking. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. And now, now he cried like he needed to. Derek endured the sobs, the rocking of his body. His kissed the top of the boy’s head, speaking assurances, doing his best to be the man that he needed to be. He was trying. After so long of being alone, he was trying to be thing that Stiles was for him. An anchor. A light in the dark. A sweet kiss in the shadow of misery. He didn’t know how long there were there, nor how long he cried. But he knew, for the first time he knew. That his wolf was right. He was home. He let his irrational human side settle and let the pure, raw emotion of his animal surround him. He let the smell of his mate wash over him, let the sound he knew Stiles loved so much creep out from his throat. The purr settled the boy, and he looked up to his wolf and smiled. He smiled the smile that Derek loved. Despite everything, all the madness and crazy, they were there. They were here. And even though they weren’t okay, somehow, the boy and his wolf knew that they would be.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter, we learned exactly what the hell is going on with Stiles.


	15. Realizations of an Unusual Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns about his power from the Keeper then continues the discussion from the factory with Derek. With certain thing clarified, Stiles plots his next step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is a bit shorter than the others and mostly just serves to clarify some things about Stiles and Derek as individuals, then them as a couple. So please be patient as the Keeper pays another visit to the Argents soon, and he isn't happy.

The Keeper was intent on inspecting Stiles as soon as he returned to the clinic. He ran his hands over his body, chanting lowly as he did so. While the boy was being subjected to a magical doctor’s visit, Derek attended to Scott. There was a moment of tension and then Scott was punching Derek. That was to be expected. He left him to face the transformation alone and that sat sour in everyone’s stomach. When the initial rage subsided, a teary eyed Scott embraced the alpha and begged to know what the hell was happening to him. There was a moment of awkwardness then Derek returned the embrace, finally taking action in the role as he was supposed to. It was sweet and a little strange. There was little time left in the day and Stiles wanted to make sure that Derek was back at his house before his dad came home. And then he needed to check on Isaac. His condition wasn’t improving and there had to be a reason for that. But the Keeper was intent on examining him until he was satisfied. Which didn’t seem to be until he took the vial of blood he’s extracted from Stiles days earlier and chanted over it. After the incantation was complete, he poured the contents of the vial onto an intricately drawn circle. Upon touching the inscription, the blood evaporated into a cloud of black smoke that smelled of licorice and honey.

    “Well, that confirms it. Wouldn’t you agree Deaton?”

“Indeed.”

   “Confirm what?” Stiles asked.

“When you came to my shop, you managed to open the door without a problem. Which is a point of interest. It is enchanted with some of my best magic. Only those who have received a personal invitation may enter. That, or those who have a potent incarnation of the Spark.”

   “The Spark?”

“It is the connection that all humans share with the natural energies of the world. Every human has one, but there are those whose are far more powerful than others. In the Old World, before the dawn of Christianity, this was very common. But over the centuries the blood has dwindled down, leaving very few with the gift. You are perhaps what would be one of the last examples of the continent of North America.”

   Stiles pondered on this as Derek appeared behind him, hand on his shoulder. So basically, he was magic. So that was cool. Only, what happened in the factory scared him. He had no idea how he did any of what he did. Throwing Derek through the air, causing cracks to appear in the floor. All he knew is that he felt alive, thrumming with power and that terrified him.

“What happens now?” Derek asked.

   “Now, I train him. Sparks of this nature are dangerous left on their own. People view magic as some illusive thing done in secret, that’s powered by supernatural forces. When in reality, magic is a very natural thing. It is merely the manipulation of energy. Emotions are energy of the mind. Therefore, Stiles’ reaction was a result of his power reaching out in a negative way. To avoid this in the future, I shall show him the finer points of the Craft in an effort to help him control his gift. There are no good outcomes if one lets the Spark run rampant or if they choose to suppress it.”

“Like what?” Stiles asked.

  “Well, the Spark allows a broader connection to the energies of the world. You’ve had it since the day you were born. Always felt it. Cutting that off can hurt or even kill you.”

“And if I just run with it?”

   “Then you could very well end up like me.” the Keeper said flashing his eyes silver.

Stiles shrank back after that. He most definitely did not want to be like the Keeper. Deaton dismissed the man and gave Stiles an herbal blend for the headache that was slowly forming at the back of his brain. Releasing that much energy hurt like hell and he would feel it come the morning. The Keeper left with assurances that he would be in touch by the end of the week. He muttered something about an investigation before walking off into the light of the fading sun. Scott tore off on his bike, excited for his “study” date with Allison. Even being a werewolf couldn’t disrupt that dopey eyed fools quest for love. That just left Stiles and Derek. They drove back to Stiles’s house, the cruiser nowhere in sight. Thank god for night shifts. Stiles slung together sandwiches, and headed upstairs. Derek hesitated at the door, the memory of what he had done still fresh in his mind. His mate, uncaring, drug him into the room. He sat him down on the bed, and they began eating. The silent ritual was short lived as both boys were quite hungry. When they were done, Stiles wasted no time.

    “So we have some things to talk about. And this time, I promise not to go psycho on you.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Where do you want to start?”

   “I need to know about this whole mate thing. I mean, I’ve been pining after the same girl since third grade and now I have a broody muscular werewolf sitting on my bed. And I’m not thinking about the girl.”

“Well, for you, that means you like boys and girls. For me, well it’s more complicated than that. Wolves respond to our animal natures. In wolf terms, you proved a capable mate. Your gender is irrelevant. Wolves can bond with members of their gender as easily as with they can their opposites. It doesn’t bother us. But the next part might bother you. “

   “And that would be what? The whole consummation part. Sex, yeah I get it. I have to sleep with you.” said with a snort.

“It’s not that simple. You have to, claim me.” Derek said almost whispering.

   “Claim you?”

“When the wolf who is being courted accepts the proposal, the wolf who proposed, mounts the other and while they mate, they bite, marking their other as theirs. It’s a way of making sure that others know of the bond.”

   “Okay, yeah no. Hold the hell up. I don’t know about this whole claiming thing. You’re not property Derek. I can’t claim you because you’re a person. So that settles that. Now, onto another thing. I’m not entirely opposed to being your mate. I mean, you’re hot and underneath that scowly personality, you can be very sweet. But that freakshow told me how alpha mates were supposed to be werewolves to.”

Derek looked down at the ground for that one. There was a tint of red in his cheeks that told Stiles he was uncomfortable.

   “With more traditional packs, yes that’s the case. But my mom was the alpha and she prefered my dad to remain human. She said that it was a balance thing. It kept her grounded. And I agreed with her. Having someone who was unaffected by the wolf was calming. They could help us stay in control. So, I guess if you decide to take this that far with me, the answer is no. I want you stay human. I bonded with you as a human. And I want to keep it that way.”

Stiles smiled at his wolf man and kissed him. Things were still confusing, and not everything was clarified, but he felt something in his chest that told him that this was okay. Derek didn’t try to progress further, and Stiles appreciated that. But there was still one question that burned at the back of his brain. He broke the kiss, earning a frown from Derek who very much wanted to continue.

   “You told me that your family burned. Does that mean you know who’s responsible?” he asked with a tremor in his voice.

“When I was sixteen, I fell for a woman. She was beautiful. Kind. Caring. But she always told me to keep our relationship a secret. I would shower two or three times before going home, just to hide the scent. It went on for a few months. Turns out, she was a hunter. And she was using me to get close to my family. She set the house on fire when I was at a friends house. I knew something was wrong when it felt like I had been sucker punched in the head by a prize fighter. I ran to the bathroom and my eyes were red. I knew what that meant. When I got there, everyone was dead. The house in flames. I ran, I started running and didn’t stop for a long time. Eventually, I just gave into the wolf and stayed there. Somehow I found myself back in Beacon Hills. And I just wandered the woods. Till you found me.

   “What was her name Derek? Maybe we could get her arrested. Murder has no statute of limitations.”

“Kate. Kate Argent.”

   Stiles gut twisted and he had to swallow back his heart. Argent. As in Allison Argent. Current love interest of his best friend. This was not happening. It wasn’t. Allison didn’t seem the type to go around setting things on fire. But she was part of the same family, and both Deaton and the Keeper said hunters moved in families. That meant, at the very least, there was someone else living with her that would’ve been involved with this Kate person. Maybe her dad. Maybe her mom. He didn’t know. But he knew what he was going to do next. First, get Scott the hell away from Allison. Next, bring the Argent family’s house crashing down around their heads.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Stiles in inclined towards magic and Derek wants to be claimed. That, and Stiles is planning behind his mate's back and that is never a good thing.


	16. Reminders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Th Keeper as a more personal visit with Chris and Victoria Argent regarding the Hale House fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we learn that yes indeed the Keeper is a not so nice person with a terrible past. He's killed and he has horrible names, but he doesn't seem to mind the fact that he's threatening to kill an entire family before all the evidence has come to light. So, yeah, he's that type of guy. And yes, this is another shortish chapter. Just enough for the Keeper to make a point and leave. Also, I'm kinda wanting bloodshed, but not yet. I need to develop the plot a bit more. Maybe in chapter 19 or 20.

Chris Argent was a hunter. From the time he could walk, in one form or another, he had been trained for it. It started with simple exercises. Physical training. Endless runs. Weight lifting. Destroying the body so that it could be put back together again. His muscles were in a constant state of pain and fire. But he never gave up and never let them see his tears. Then, weapons. Swords, bows, and knives. The traditional route that his ancestors taught. Never rely on guns alone. When you run out of bullets a gun is useless. When a sword breaks, you can still jam it in your enemy's eye. And in between, studying. Pile after pile of books, scrolls, and manuscripts. All detailing about the creatures of the night. The things that haunted humans. The things that lived in the guise of flesh, but were nothing more than beasts. He learned their strengths, their weaknesses. He learned how they thought. How they behaved. But most of all, he learned the most efficient way to kill them. And he was good at it. He didn’t show fear. He always knew which bullet to use, which gun to fire. The Argent name was still strong in the world after so many hundreds of years. But now, for the first time, he felt that name being threatened. He was sitting in the kitchen, idly smoking, waiting for Victoria to arrive. He was calm, and collected, his face showing no emotion. Chris couldn’t gauge him. There was no telling what that boy was thinking. But he had the stories to go on and the names. The Dark Druid. The Shadow of the New Moon. Devourer of the Wicked. A supposed elder emissary of the Old World who had lived for the better part of two thousand years. The stories of what he did, well, they would turned cold the blood of the staunchest of men. People spoke of how he would create mounds of corpses and then dance around them. No one was safe if he deemed them to die. Men, women, children. It didn’t matter. As long as he got what he wanted. And all he seemed to ever want was knowledge. Books, and documents. Those were his treasures. Then there was his dealings with the Council. The group of emissaries that regulated the wolf packs to some degree. How he would “take care” of any problem they may have. There was also more going on with that vet. They had a relationship that transcended normal interaction. It wasn’t physical, but it certainly wasn’t benevolent either. And now, after all the horror stories, he was sitting in his kitchen, as if nothing were wrong.

   “Please put that horrid thing out.” Victoria said coming into the room.

The boy obliged and apologized. He waited politely for Chris to discuss things with his wife. They chatted for several minutes regarding the Keeper’s return to their home. Victoria in typical fashion, simply wanted to kill him. Chris proposed how they could when he could rip the guns from their hands by just thinking it. Eventually, they ceased and sat down to join him.

   “Nice to see you again, I suppose.”

“Mr.Argent, while I appreciate your niceties, let us be done with them. There is nothing pleasant about this meeting. Nor ever will it be.”

    “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Victoria snapped.

“It means I don’t like you. I’ve never cared for the company of hunters. You kill creatures you deem lesser than yourselves because they are monsters. Well what about the monsters who are actually monster. The murderers. The rapists. The pedophiles. The ones who take the lack of moral empathy to its highest degree.”

    “There is a system in place for that. A checks and balances of sorts. A court of law.” Chris responded.

“As is there for the wolves. Or have your forgotten? It seems you have. Well no matter. I’ve already informed them and a representative of theirs will be here by the end of the week.”

   “I’m sure we can-”

Victoria’s words were cut off by the clinking of glass. The Keeper extracted several jars, and places them next to each other. Each was filled with a piece or pieces of wood. The Argents eyed them intently before the Keeper spoke again.

“I’m afraid that this matter must be resolved by the Council. As is the way things are done when accusations of genocide are made.”

   “Genocide? Who on Earth is accusing us of genocide?”

“That would be me. And so far, I have sufficient evidence. Tell me, can see the difference between these samples?” the Keeper asked playfully.

   “The ones on the right are darker than the ones on the left.” Chris said flatly.

“Yes, very good Mr.Argent. Now, here’s some fun facts for you. First, these samples come from the Hale house. Second, the samples on the left are general. Kitchen, living room, bedrooms. Now,the samples on the right are from the basement. And if you look closely, you’ll see that the burn marks are darker and that signifies what Mr.Argent?”

    “That they fire burned longer and hotter there than anywhere else in the house.”

“And that signifies?” the Keeper inquired as he leaned forward.

   “An ignition point.”

“Correct Mr.Argent. Now, here’s the funny thing. In the official report, it was deemed that a malfunctioning electrical wire was to blame. However, the samples I took were nowhere near any electrical wiring or devices for that matter. But do you know what I did find when I ran some tests?”

   There was silence after that. Victoria’s usual sharpness was dulled and Chris could barely look the boy in the eye. They knew what came next.

“I found traces of a colorless, odorless, and tasteless chemical igniter. And if there is a better way to set fire to a house full of werewolves, then I don’t know it. This culminated with the thief, and the assault on Derek Hale gives me sufficient evidence to have your family purged. But then, ask yourselves this. Why am I not doing it already?”

    “Why?” Victoria asked with an edge in her voice.

“Because, out of all these dreadful families, you’re the only one I have a sliver of respect for. Your code is designed to protect innocents. Someone has broken that and a family is now dead. This was a willful act of malicious intent specifically done to kill wolves. Except that it wasn’t just wolves. There were humans in that house. Human children. Children whose bones went for six years unburied. Needless to say, I also suspect someone in your family bribed the inspectors to leave the remains untouched and unreported. Whether to help cover the crime or out of some sick amusement, I don’t care either way. What has been done is unforgivable. And that’s coming from me.”

   The Keeper was done. His message sent. He had only one final thing.

“Ii will give you one chance and one chance only to find those who violated your laws. You have one week to deliver them to me and the Council representative. Otherwise, we do it ourselves. And believe you me, I will have no issues reviving my reputation should it be needed. Your family will burn the same as the Hales if you get in my way.”

     After he packed the jars back into his satchel, the boy moved to leave. He was content that the message had been properly sent. Chris Argent was many things, but a fool was not one of them. He would be fair and just and concise. If there was anyone who could find the traitor, it was him. He just needed the proper motivation. And that motivation was named Allison Argent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will focus on Stiles' relationship with Lydia and how she wants to make it up to him. Also Jackass come along to screw things up in the usual fashion. And Stiles has to make a choice concerning Isaac. And I think you all know what that choice is.


	17. A Choice Made in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles moves forward and makes several choices that change the course of his life even further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of updating. I've been busy with real life nonsense. I managed to free some time today. There isn't a whole lot that goes on in this chapter. But know this, the fic is nearing its climax. Soon we will see the true power of the Keeper and as well as Stiles' decision to consummate with Derek. Also Scott and Isaac's friendship. That's gonna be fun.

Stiles’ life had managed to reach some measurable degree of normalcy over the last few days. His relationship with Derek had been, muted. There was still kissing, but everything was kept from the waist up and with clothes on. Mostly, Derek wanted to touch. To cuddle. And that was perfectly fine. There was no issue with that kind of intimacy, at least in Stiles’ eyes that is. Scott on the other hand, didn’t share his feelings. Derek was a wolf, an alpha wolf. Scott was a beta werewolf who had all but rejected that relationship. He viewed Derek as a potential threat more than anything. It made his hairs stand on edge whenever Stiles came near. Always saying something about how he smelled wrong. Needless to say, he pointed out to his best friend about Allison. Derek made it very clear that her family was involved in the fire and therefore, she shouldn’t be allowed to get close. But as all love struck puppies were, Scott was over and under the moon. And somehow, his relationship with Allison set in motion another chain of events. The first day she sat with them, everything was normal. The second day, Lydia followed with a grimacing Jackson behind her. It was awkward and tense and hardly enjoyable. After the third day, things eased into a routine. Jackson would scowl. Lydia would gossip with Allison and the other girls at the table. And surprisingly enough, the boys seemed to want to know the secret to Scott’s newfound success on the field. It was a crafty speech telling of late summer practices and training with Stiles. That of course led to them asking his techniques. He brilliantly wove a tale of reflex training and plenty of cardio to help Scott overcome his asthma . Everyone believed it. Except Jackson that it is. He smirked and made some offhand comment under his breath. Not yet in full control of himself, Stiles felt a twitch of anger flicker through his mind. Somehow Jackson’s chair leg snapped which sent him spiraling to the ground in a mess of shouting and flailing arms. It was amusing but Scott pulled him from the table and out of the cafeteria. He started training with the Keeper after that. There was no fun in that. It involved a lot of reading and meditation. Repeated conversations about energy were in abundance. Everything was connections. He was tied to the earth and all that lived on it. Intimately so. His emotions were a trigger, each one having a different effect. Anger or rage led to destruction. Sadness or grief could lead to death and sickness. When Stiles questioned the Keeper referred him to the outbreak of the Black Plague. Apparently, a practitioner had lost his wife to the disease. In his sorrow, he unknowingly amplified the illness allowing it to spread over Europe. That was a terrifying thought. Then there was peace. Internal balance allowed for an interesting ability. Healing. The Keeper was teaching him how to basically be a magic doctor. Said something about it being the best course for his gift. It was not easy. He started on mice. The first three exploded. Magic was about energy. To heal, one had to balance their own energy with that of another living creature. And that was easier said than done. It took him a week and half to stop killing things. Another two to actually close a wound. All the while, he kept taking books from the Keeper. He didn’t seem to notice. There were all books relating to hunters. Namely, the Argents. They weren’t the nicest of people. Their history was stained with blood and plenty of it. Kate’s actions were hardly the first time the family had committed an act of violence. And it wasn’t the first time that they got away with something like this either. Stiles’ stomach turned in knots at what he read. He ended up creating little balls of fire that hung in mid air and it took him nearly an hour to make them go away. Derek was amused. Stiles wasn’t. In fact, if his stress levels got any higher, he was likely to cause an earthquake. He’d been keeping tabs on Allison, watching her whenever he could. Her family may be hunters, but she certainly wasn’t. He knew how to tell when someone was keeping secrets. It was a horrid talent as people could never lie to him. Allison had no idea about Scott or Derek or even her own family. And that worked to his advantage. When the time came, he would be able to make sure she was on Scott’s side and not her aunt’s. But then there was another matter that needed attending to. And it was one that weighed heavily on his mind. Isaac wasn’t getting better. He had suffered brain damage when he smacked his head on the shower wall. He was barely conscious half of the time. Stiles had tried healing him but he didn’t have enough experience. If he tried anymore, he could kill him. So one day after school, he called Scott over. He sat next to Derek as he explained his proposition. Derek was for it. Scott wasn’t.

“I don’t know man. Can’t we just get the Keeper to heal him?”

    “Scott, he specializes in blood magic. That’s about as far from healing as you can get. And besides, to bring Derek back he wanted a vial of my blood. There’s no telling what he’ll ask for to bring someone back from the brink of death.”

There wasn’t much argument after that. Scott didn’t trust the Keeper and neither did Stiles. No matter how much he did helped, he did so only because it served his ends and nothing more. Derek agreed to do it when the hospital was clear for the night. He returned solemn faced and a little shaken. When he turned Scott, he did so because he thought he was saving Stiles. This time, it was carefully thought and planned. Willfully executed and delivered. If Isaac died, then that would be on Derek. And on Stiles. Three days later and after a hell of a lot of worrying, they had their answer. Isaac made a full recovery. He took to the transformation nicely. He was happy. Stiles knew why. After years of abuse at the hands of his father, he was no longer powerless. This of course, led to him being a raging douche. He grew arrogant and constantly teased Scott about how he struggled with the change. Eventually Derek had enough. He berated Isaac for his arrogance and warned him to back off. Stiles was thankful for it. Not only was it becoming annoying, Jackson was getting suspicious. He was paying more and more attention to Scott on the field. More than once, Stiles had seen his car lingering behind the Jeep. There was no denying it. He was being followed and Isaac wasn’t helping much. He suggested that they just kill Jackson. That was something of a personal area. Jackson knew about the abuse and never reported it. Stiles threw Isaac across the room for the comment. They kept things low key after that. Stiles spent more time at home with Derek than he did with the Keeper. The less he traveled the better. Scott toned down his performance on the field to meet level with Jackson. It lessened the pressure. But there was still an issue that needed dealing with. Several actually. The first being Allison. Stiles needed to make sure she was on their side when the time came. Second, Isaac. He was, growing attached to Scott. After the initial cockiness had subsided, he was relying more and more on him to explain things. He couldn’t have constant access to Derek but Scott could. Control was one thing. Learning to determine what your senses were telling you was another. Scott may have had issues with his temper, but he was uniquely gifted in the regard of understanding his new biology. The smells, the sounds, the enhanced urges. Isaac was floundering. A fish out of water. He had tried asking out a girl and ended up scaring the living crap out of her. He hadn’t realized that he was leaning in to sniff her. The wolf was dominant in his senses and he didn’t know how to handle it. Scott was becoming fast friends with him and that of course left Stiles somewhat despondent. He had less time when he got together with Allison. Now with that and Isaac, there was little left for him. But that of course meant more time with Derek. They were getting along better now. Learning about each other. Derek liked classical music, sports cars, and organic cooking. Stiles loved everything, adored his Jeep and was the first in line for curly fries. They were a bit of opposites and at the same time, they were alike. There was an unflinching loyalty to the ones they loved and cared for. A devotion to them, to always make sure they were okay. Derek lost that. Until Stiles had come along. That was part of the reason for the attachment. The young alpha found the same sense of compassion in Stiles that he had in himself. There were of course things that presented issues. Derek, despite now being in full possession of facilities, wanted to complete the process of union. He sat down and explained it to Stiles. How alphas were stronger with mates. How he could very easily be the pack emissary, like Deaton had once been. And the best and most effective way to seal this power to was to consummate the proposal. Stiles of course, found plenty of reason to wait. Derek was twenty two. He was a virgin. And if his dad found out, they were both dead. But that didn’t mean he was opposed to it. Derek was gorgeous, and kind, and loyal. There was little else Stiles seemed to want. Lydia, he realized, was nothing more than a face. Albeit a pretty one. She was cold and calculating, and ruthless in getting what she wanted. Stiles saw that now. What he didn’t see, was what he needed for dinner. He had just escaped from Derek’s clutches after a nicely hot make out session when he realized that he needed to go to the store. He was just to his Jeep when heard the footsteps.

   “Hey Stiles.” came a sweet sounding voice.

It was from a woman in her thirties with long brown locks and the same doleful eyes as Allison.

“Kate.”

  “Glad we can skip the intros.”

There was sharp prick in his back and then there was a jolt of fire. He had been tasered. As the electricity continued to pulse through him he moved to scream for Derek. Kate’s foot found his face before he could.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger. Next chapter, things come to a head with Jackson. and the Keeper gives the Argents two choices. Cooperation or destruction.


	18. An Unlikely Union

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek realizes that Kate has kidnapped Stiles and enlists Scott and Isaac to help him find the missing teen. Of course that means everyone else has to get involved as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is written from Derek's perspective and how he feels about his relationship with Stiles. Needless to say, I enjoyed writing it. And I apologize for this chapter as well. Just stay with me as next chapter Kate gets what's coming to her.

Derek was conflicted. There was a period of time in his six years in the woods where everything was perfectly clear. Being a wolf was easy. It didn’t take much thought or effort. Hunt, eat, sleep, and stay hidden. Of course that was until Stiles found him. And for the first time since his family burned, there was someone who felt safe. His scent was warm and inviting. Even with the stench of alcohol, he smelled like someone Derek could trust. He didn’t feel like he had to run. He could be okay. Though as a wolf, this message was hard to convey. Stiles was human and didn’t even know werewolves existed. But in the end, he did all the things a wolf would do. He kept him safe and comforted. He fed him. Cared for him. Buried his family. After that, the wolf practically preened every time he came near in an effort to reciprocate his affections. That was the way it went. Then there was the scent marking. Derek wanted the world to know how he felt about the boy. He didn’t seem to mind. He did return the favor. Though it was unknowingly. Derek had never felt happier. So when he could finally gain some of his human back, when he stopped being all wolf, he took his opportunity. He kissed Stiles. That’s how humans showed love. But it didn’t go as expected. Stiles was shocked and scared. And as more human things came back, Derek realized. He was twenty-two years old. Stiles was just shy of seventeen. That was a considerable age gap. Then there was the fact that Derek was very much a man. The wolf didn’t care about such things. It its eyes, Stiles had proven himself a worthy mate. A worthy companion. Someone Derek would be willing to submit to. That was something in of itself. But Stiles didn’t understand that either. Marking and claiming. To him, the idea was barbaric. So Derek tried to show his love in a different way. But once again the wolf got in the way. He frightened Stiles. And then his human side told him the most obvious thing. Run, he’s rejecting you. He doesn’t want you. So he did. And he was okay with that. Until his mate came for him. Enlisting whatever foul craft the witch used to bring him back, Stiles found Derek hiding away from the world. And that wasn’t okay. Derek realized that he was supposed to be alone. Even it meant it would hurt Stiles, the boy would move on. But he didn’t. He got angry. Stupendously angry. He ended up throwing Derek across the room, which was a shock to the both of them. Eventually Derek realized that even if he didn’t go back for Scott, he needed Stiles. The wolf refused to be away from him. He’d spent six years alone, and for the first time, he dared to want someone else. They didn’t become intimate again. There had been kisses and small touches. Gestures that made the wolf hum in contentment. There was a satisfying routine that was decided upon without words. Derek trained Scott and the Keeper trained Stiles. And after Isaac was turned and added to the fold, he was trained to. Both of the betas resisted Derek at first. Teenage stubbornness combined with werewolf pride was nothing take lightly. More than once or twice Derek had to smack his betas upside the head. And when he wasn’t there to do it, Stiles used his training to do it. It was a comfortable routine. One that made Derek feel good. Like his pack was coming along. It was, well it felt like home. Family even. He was okay. That is until he heard a crackling coming from outside. One that he knew too well. Electricity.

    “Stiles!?” he shouted.

He was out of the door but not fast enough. There was an SUV peeling off into the street and it was quickly fading into the distance. Derek gave chase and was nearly caught up when he stumbled to the ground in pain. Aerosolized wolfsbane. The way his face was on fire it had to be Indian Monkswood. The poison was lessened by the type of dispersal but that was the point. Whoever took Stiles wanted him alive but injured so he couldn’t keep up. And they’re plan had worked. Derek’s nose was on fire and there was no way he could track his mate by scent. But there were two he could. It seemed like he was going back to high school after all.

    He didn’t like the smell of so many hormones. Teenagers had been bad enough when he actually did go to school. Now, now it was just nauseating. He’d spent too long as a wolf to just turn it off. Even without full range of his senses, there were so many overpowering aromas. How that girl wore way too much perfume. How that boy desperately needed to shower. But underneath all of that, his wolf could find the scent of his betas. Well, he could find someone who had been near them. Specifically tracking their unique scent trigger was out of the question. Someone who had been in close proximity with them for a period of time would have to work.  He was tall, leanly muscular and very, very blonde. There were lingering traces of Scott and Isaac all over him.

   “I’m looking for Scott Mccall.” Derek said plainly.

“Who’s asking?” the boy quipped. So he was that type.

   “Doesn’t matter. I need to find him.”

“Oh, I tell you where he is. But first you’re gonna tell me what you’re selling him.”

   “Selling him?” Derek questioned.

“Yeah. That pee brained asthmatic has always been mediocre at best. Then all of a sudden he’s a star athlete. No one just gets that good. So tell me what you’re selling him and I tell you where I can find him. Don't, and I call security and have you arrested for trespassing on school grounds.”

   Derek responded before he could think. The alpha in him wouldn’t tolerate a threat from this boy. He hand was clasping his throat. Eyes red and fangs baring, he snarled. The boy nearly pissed himself with terror. Not so much the tough guy now. He was practically whimpering. Derek was lying if he said that some part of him didn’t find that somewhat satisfying.

   “Where.Is.Scott.Mccall.” Derek demanded.

“I knew that loser had something going on. He just didn’t get that good on his own. No matter what that spaz Stilinski said.”

   “I won’t ask again.” Derek threatened while shoving the boy further into the locker.

“Make you a deal. You make me like Scott and I’ll lead you straight to him.”

   Part of Derek perked at the idea. The boy was young, strong, and clever. He knew how to demand something for something. As a wolf, he would be hard to control but a valuable asset once he was properly trained. He needed a stronger pack and this boy could work. With time.

“All right. But first you help me, then I help you. And you’ll be just like Scott. Understand.”

   The boy nodded and led Derek to the locker room which was just about empty. Scott was still there, changing back into his school clothes. The moment he caught Derek’s scent, his eyes became saucers and his nostrils flared. He ran up, skidding to a hault.

“Someone took Stiles.” Derek said plainly.

    Scott panicked and Derek had to calm him down before he could even explain. They needed Isaac for this plan to work. His nose was still healing. When they got to the part about the boy, whose name was Jackson, the young beta sort of flipped his shit. But Derek assured him that it was for the best that they had everyone on their side. Including Allison. She didn’t know and it was the best to have a hunter’s daughter. She may not have been aware of her family or werewolves, but now was as good a time as any to tell her. If she knew that it put people in danger and saw that it had gotten Stiles kidnapped, she would side with them. Scott went about texting Allison and Isaac. They were supposed to meet them at the clinic. Derek rode with Jackson. Squeezing into the Porsche was not fun or comfortable. But it made due. They arrived just as Scott was explaining things to Allison while Isaac gave a visual aid. She was shocked and a little unnerved, as expected. But when she learned that Stiles had been taken, the fact that her boyfriend was a werewolf made little difference in the matter. She demanded to know what they were supposed to do.

    “I like this one. She’s got a great deal of nerve. Given the circumstances.” came an icy voice.

Derek’s hair stood on edge. The vet had called the witch. There was just something about him. Something that unnerved every last fiber of his being when he was around. Maybe it was how quietly he moved. Or the fact that he seemed to have no scent. Like he was a ghost. Scott and Isaac felt the same. There was no denying that he scared the hell out of all of them.

   “I see you’ve made a new addition. Might I inquire as to the exact nature of the circumstances?” the man asked.

“Head trauma. Wasn’t healing. Likelihood of survival was low. Didn’t object when he learned what I did.” Derek replied.

    “Acceptable. Just don’t go making a habit out of it. Now, care to introduce us.”

“Isaac, Allison, Jackson, this is the Keeper. He’s helped us before.”

   “Keeper? The hell kind of name is that?” Jackson snipped.

“The kind of name once gets when you’ve lived long enough to be without an actual name. When your existence becomes legend, your deeds, the things of nightmares.” the Keeper replied letting his eyes flash their trademark silver.

   

Derek reigned Jackson in and went about explaining things to Allison, Deaton, and the Keeper. All were in agreement that the first priority was to find Stiles. Next, developing a plan to rescue him with minimum casualties. That of course would require knowing who took him. The Keeper had a suggestion for that.

   “Excuse me? What did you say?” Allison shouted.

“Your family comes from a long line of hunters. I suspect that the one who took Stiles was your aunt. Who also happened to be the prime suspect in my investigation into the Hale fire. Oh, don’t look at me like that Derek. I confront your parents some weeks ago regarding them finding the person responsible. Giving them a chance to discover the traitor on their own. Which they didn’t. But they gathered enough evidence to delay my judgement. Needless to say, the boy’s kidnapping cements her fate.”

“What are you suggesting?” Deaton asked.

   “Give the Argents one last chance to redeem themselves. They will assist us in the boy’s rescue. And when Kate has been apprehended, I will write of notice of recommendation to the Council for them to be exonerated.”

“You’re asking me to work the people that killed my family?” Derek said not even trying to hide the venom in his voice

   “I’m asking you to be an adult and put aside your anger for an opportunity to save your mate and get justice for your family.”

   Everyone ignored the mate comment lest they anger Derek further. There was a lot to think about. There was no reason to trust an Argent except for Allison. She didn’t have the same prejudice as her family. Her parents had spent their entire lives doing this. Working with Derek was likely low on the things they’d be willing to do. But they had no leads. No clues. And there was no telling what Kate could be doing to Stiles. He sighed and agreed to meet Allison’s parents. When asked where the began, the first part was finding Stiles. When Scott asked how they were supposed to do that, the Keeper smiled and pulled out a knife. Derek knew what came next. Even though he disdained magic, he let the Keeper take his blood. He winced as the man drug the knife across his skin. The world began to spin as he chanted. He painted a strange symbol on his head and Derek’s eyes fluttered shut. He faintly remembers the smell of pine needles before losing consciousness.

 

  
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger, again. The Keeper is getting a little to free with the whole blood magic thing and it's starting to unnerve a lot of people. Next chapter, his intentions become clear and Kate learns what happens when you piss off Stiles. As does everyone else.


	19. Give Me Liberty or Give Me Kate Argent's Head on a Pike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Kate confront each as best kidnapper and the kidnapped can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The climax of the fic is NOW!!! Kate gets what's coming to her and I couldn't be happier.

 

Unconsciousness was a strange and unpleasant thing. It wasn’t like sleep. Sleep was a natural phenomenon that happened naturally in all human beings. The body’s way of saying, okay time to shut down and recharge. Mostly, one felt rather good after a restful sleep. Full of energy and brimming with a little pip in their step. Blacking out however, that was by no means enjoyable. There were no dreams. Just a profound sense of weight in the chest and an inky feeling in the eyelids. Darkness was the best way to describe it. Just an endless, unbroken void of nothingness. It was slightly terrifying. And coming out of it was even less pleasant than being in it. It wasn’t like the slow, natural process that came with sleep. You just suddenly find yourself jolting awake, confused as hell with the worst headache of your life. The first thing Stiles noticed was the smell. It was acrid and old. Next was the floor. It was solid concrete and unbelievably cold. Then of course there was his mouth. It tasted of blood and pain. As he managed to rouse himself from his stupor, he vaguely remembered not only being tasered, but having his face kicked in. Huh, so that’s what that felt like. He was almost sorry that he did that to Jackson. But not entirely. His wrists hurt and he could tell that there was something binding them together. Oh, yeah. He’d been kidnapped. Kidnapped by Kate Argent. So that happened. And needless to say, he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea. She murdered an entire family because she thought them monsters. Foregoing any sense of mercy, she slaughtered them all. Human and wolf. Man, woman, and child. Stiles would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t scared. This woman was a sociopath. And there were people helping her. With the training he had been getting from the Keeper, he might have been able to taker her on his own. But he knew that there was at least one other man here with her. Wherever they may be.

   Spitting the slime from his mouth, he managed to sit up straight and take in his surroundings. It was a warehouse. In the old industrial district. Huh, wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth. Derek disappears, ends up in a place like this. Stiles gets kidnapped and gets dragged in here. Life is funny like that. Except that this wasn’t funny and his wrists were starting to hurt. There was a spell for that. It was one of the first ones that the Keeper taught him. Simply manipulating the energy of the body to be able to create basic motions in inanimate objects. It was how the Keeper was able to throw people around with barely lifting a finger. He had just started to chant when a there was a crack across his face. The sides of his vision whited out as blinding pain tore across his jaw. He had been struck, hard, with what was most likely a police baton. Or some variation.

   “Now, we can’t have any of that.” said an icy voice that held just a hint of a snicker.

“Kate Argent.”

    “Aw, you know my name. And here I thought I had to do all the work in this relationship.”

“Relationship?” Stiles questioned.

   “You know the one where I spy on you and the Keeper and learn what you’re up to.”

“How did you know?”

“Simple. Allison told me all about Scott. How he got so good for the start of the season. Apparently, he wasn’t always so stellar. According to her anyway. It got me curious. Then, there was the fact that we had gotten sightings of an alpha here. I cornered him with some of men and shot him up. But then the most curious thing happened. We didn’t find the body. What we did find was a trail that led us to that clinic. I posted out, watching. And wouldn’t you know it, Derek Hale was alive and an alpha. I knew before that creepy bastard ever showed up at my brother’s house.”

   “I take it you met the Keeper then?”

“One of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever met.” she snorted.

   “Pot calling the kettle black sister.”

There was another crack across his face. This time it broke his nose and he came dangerously close to blacking out again. The woman sighed out, as if just exasperated. This was getting nowhere Stiles wanted to be.

  “Now come on, I’m trying to be nice. But you’re not making it easy. So I start simply. Where is Derek now?”

    “Go take that baton and fuck yourself with it.” Stiles snapped. This time the blow came across his left shoulder. It didn’t hurt any less than the face.

“Where is Derek Stiles?”

   “Don’t know. Have you tried a dog whistle? Maybe he’ll come running and rip your throat out so I can be rid of you.” There was another blow across his shoulder. The next one would probably break it.

“You know, I don’t understand that. You’ve barely known him a few months. Yet, it’s like you’re already fast friends. Sometimes it seems more than that. Almost as if-”

There was a breath of silence and Kate doubled over in laughter. She was clutching her sides in hysteria when she spoke again.

    “Oh he didn’t! He tried to hook up with you didn’t he? Stupid little wolf. Guess I ruined him after all. Poor little teenage boys don’t know what to do when they have a good thing going.”

“So not only did you burn his family and rape him, you emotionally abused him as well. Your a real piece of work lady.”

   “Rape? Oh no, you have the wrong idea on that one honey. That boy was EAGER to have me. Like a puppy begging for a bone. Oh, you should have seen him. It was so sweet. Most adorable thing ever.” she quipped

“He was sixteen you disgusting bitch. That’s statutory. And what’s worse, you don’t care. You wrecked him. Destroyed his family. His entire family, murdered because of your prejudice.”

   “No one cries murder when you put a dog down.”

“THERE WERE CHILDREN IN THAT HOUSE YOU BITCH!”

   Stiles could feel his anger rising. Even with a broken nose, bruised jaw, and a shoulder that was screaming, Kate was pushing every button he had. Something red exploded out of the back of his head and dyed his vision with rage. This was just like with Derek. While he wasn’t opposed to knocking the shit out of the woman, he didn’t want to kill her. That’s not how things were supposed to be done. Even if it would be justified. She deserved so much more than a quick death. Derek deserved to watch her get sent to prison for the rest of her life. Watch her turn old and rot behind a set of bars. Where she could never hurt anyone again.

    “Now that is impressive. You’re just like that freak aren’t you. Though you can’t seem to control it just yet.”

“All things come to those who have patience Kate. Give me a minute to work it out and then I send your ass flying.”

   “I don’t think that will be necessary.” came a placid and ruthless voice.

Kate whipped her head around to find a sight to be seen. Hunters, human, and wolf. Together. Holding guns. Guns aimed at her. Chris stood with Allison, Desert Eagle aimed high. The young girl had her bow drawn and there was little doubt that she would fire. Scott, Isaac, and Jackson stood back. The former to two were unarmed, but still had their claws and fangs. Jackson, it seemed was just there for moral support. Kate let out of huff and a small laugh.

   “Bad time Chris. We were just getting to the good part. Oh, where’s my little wolf.  I did miss him.”

“Right here.”

   Derek materialized out the shadows, eyes red and fang ready to bite something. Upon seeing Stiles’ battered face and body, he all but roared at Kate. The Keeper put himself between the alpha and the huntress. This was not the way things were to commence from here.

   “She hurt him. She hurt my mate.”

“Mate!? Ha! Oh, that’s fucking rich Derek. And he gave me shit for being with you. Oh, now the tables have turned.”

   “He didn’t manipulate me like you did Kate. He took care of me. So to it that I was safe. You just took what you wanted and went scrambling off, leaving me confused and broken. I was sixteen and lost and scared. You took more than my family. You took who I was. And you’re gonna pay for that.”

“I agree Mr.Hale. Genocide that goes unpunished is hardly something I can stand. Your family has already agreed to hand you over to the Council Kate. My suggestion, come peacefully, or you can die here. Personally, I don’t care. I’ve enough of your presence to last me ten more lifetimes. Not that I would ever want it.”

   Kate looked at the group with fiery anger and motioned with her head. As if telling someone to come forward. No one came.

“You’ll find those worthless scraps of existence have already been dealt with. You have no moves left.”

   “I have this.”

There was an ungodly burst of golden light and then there was smoke. It was bitter to the point of pain. Stiles eyes watered and as he managed to free himself from his ropes, he realized what is was. Wolfsbane. Highly toxic wolfsbane. The canister wasn’t only filled with gas, there was a burst of concentrated oil falling on everything. The smoke cleared slightly and Stiles saw all the wolves on the ground, howling in pain. Scott and Isaac nearly clawed their faces off. Derek curled on himself, vomiting black goo.

   “NO!”

Stiles used the anger he had left and dispersed the cloud, and was next to Derek. He started chanting desperately to remove the poison from the wolf’s body. He stopped convulsing and settled. Next he worked on Scott and Isaac. When they were no longer screaming, he went back to find Derek with a gun pointed at his head. In the chaos and confusion Kate had snuck up behind all them. Chris was cradling his head, which was bleeding profusely. Allison had a bullet graze on her firing arm.

   “Any last words dog.”

Derek looked at Stiles with mournful eyes and said three words that broke his heart.

“I love you.”

   Kate cocked the gun as Stiles started to run. Then, it just dropped from her hand. There was a spurt of blood and her body went rigid. The Keeper was behind her, eyes deadly silver. His hand, straight through the woman’s chest, holding her heart. It beat once before the man crushed it in the palm of his hand. Extracting his limb from Kate’s body, she crumbled to the ground, dead as could be. Her eyes slated over with the greyness of death and there was no more.

   “Surprised I found that there. Didn’t think she had one.”

He licked the traces of blood from his fingers as he moved to Chris and Allison. Stiles was by Derek, and then they were kissing. Fast, rushed and not at all pretty. But it didn’t matter. They were safe. They were okay. Even if his face hurt, he was okay. Kate was dead. And Derek was still alive. He was almost happy until he saw the Keeper’s face. His eyes were still silver, but this time, his face was different. The skin was grey, and darker than it should’ve been. The man smiled revealing two sets of fangs. Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and tried not to let his fear show. The Keeper put one bloodstained finger to his lips to silence Stiles. Then, he turned away and walked out. Before he entered the dark, Stiles noticed that Kate’s heart was missing. The Keeper had taken it.

   

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though, magic, eyes, teeth, and organ theft. What the hell is the Keeper. I'm not even sure I know myself. Might do it for the last chapter. Might wait until I do the sequel. Either way, it's gonna be awesome.


	20. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles ends up in the hospital and deals with the aftermath of the Keeper and Kate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last. You've waited. I've teased. And it's here. STEREK SEXY TIMES!!!!!!

It didn’t take long for Stiles to succumb to his injuries. After being tasered, beaten, and being exposed to wolfsbane, there was little else he could do but pass out. He woke, a day later, in the hospital. Derek and Lydia were both seated in separate chairs, fast asleep. Stiles would have reveled in the sight of the wolf he had fallen for and the girl who used to stumble for if he wasn’t as clever as he was. It didn’t take long for the sheriff to arrive. He was furious. Not only for Stiles lying to him, but that he endangered himself by taking action against Kate and not informing any members of the police. After a speech filled with plenty of angry words, the sheriff broke down and held his son. There was a moment of peace before the next conversation came about. He knew about the werewolves. Well, at least part of it. When Stiles had been admitted, Derek refused to leave. So when the sheriff first showed up, there was a broody young adult who had been listing missing for the better part of a decade. When it was obvious how Derek felt about Stiles, and what he was, guns had been drawn. But by some stroke of oddly placed fortune, the Keeper had arrived and explained most of it. What happened to Derek’s family. What had happened with Scott and Isaac. And the powers that Stiles had. Funny enough, the man kept his own identity and involvement to a bare minimum. Stiles thought that for the best. In the end, the sheriff had an easy enough time processing the matter. Lydia on the other hand, did not. She was a mixture of confusion, anger, and fear. Mostly because when the Keeper met her, he smiled widely and said something about her being “interesting”. Then there was the part about Jackson being turned. He showed up to the hospital, ragged as hell and smiling like the devil. When Stiles saw him, he knew what had happened. The residents of Beacon Hills mistook his fury for a mild earthquake. It took both Scott and Isaac to hold him down while Melissa administered a mild sedative. Even though it was pharmaceutical grade, it only dulled the anger. When he came out of the haze, Derek was there, mournful look on his face. Stiles refused to talk to him. Or Scott. Or Isaac. In fact, the only ones he would talk to were Allison and Lydia. The two girls visited everyday after school and gave Stiles notes on the lesson and homework. This went on until the end of the week. Eventually, Scott lost his patience and barged in, not caring that he might just be thrown out of a window. Naturally, the two boys reconciled. Derek was another  matter. Stiles still didn’t want to see him. But not just because of Jackson. It was because of what Derek had said before the Keeper had ripped Kate’s heart out. Three simple words that, more than anything, had shaken Stiles to his core. Derek had said that he loved him. And there was no taking that back. Not at all. There was nothing that Stiles could say. He was sixteen. The concept of love, actual love, was somewhat foreign to him. It was clear, painfully so, that what Lydia was to him was more affection than anything else. There was no devotion or undying commitment. But with Derek, there was something. Something that couldn’t really be explained. It defied reason, logic, or even basic sense. Stiles had found him, alone and scared out of his mind. He’d taken care of him, because, because he didn’t know why. Maybe because he felt that no one should ever be alone. Not like that. To have everything in their world ripped from them. He’d felt that before. Scott had felt that before. There was no real explanation to why he felt this way. But in the end, it didn’t seem to matter. Derek was, good. He was loyal and kind and brave. He stayed true to his friends. Even if he had turned Jackass Jackson, he was well on his way to being a very good alpha. And now, Stiles thought to himself, it was time for him to be a good mate. So when he was discharged and he found himself home, it was a surprise to no one that Derek was waiting for him. The sheriff resisted the urge to shoot the wolf as he led his son inside. They both sat while the good sheriff poured himself a double whiskey. He finished it before speaking. Though he poured himself another before doing so.

    “So, Derek. You and my son?”

“Yes sir.”

    “The fact that you’re a werewolf has nothing to do with any of this. What does concern me, is the fact that a twenty-two year old man has feelings for my son.” the man said sharply.

“Dad, Simon explained everything. You know why Derek feels the way he does. And for the record, I’m almost seventeen.” Stiles quipped.

    “Doesn’t matter Stiles. As a parent, my concerns are legitimate. And yes, that odd little man did explain things. But that doesn’t explain how you feel.

Stiles didn’t have anything to say. Mainly because his dad was right. There were no words to explain how he felt. He just felt. Plain and simple. So he did the only thing he could think of. He laced his fingers with Derek and stared his father down. If he couldn’t use words, then he would use actions. There was a breath of silence and then the sheriff spoke again.

    “I don’t exactly understand this, nor can I say that I approve. But you seem happy Stiles. For the first time, in a long time, you seem happy. There’s no denying that. And I, as a father, don’t want to get in the way of that. Now, normally, this is the part where I threaten you Derek. But seeing as Stiles nearly tore down the hospital, I don’t think I have to. So, I’m going to leave for work, and you two behave. We’ll continue this when I get home.”

    Stiles could hardly believe that things were going to be that easy. In fact, he knew they weren’t. But this is the part where he and Derek needed to talk. So he lead them up to his bedroom and sat them both down. They were silent, fingers still entwined. Derek knew what was coming.

“So you turned Jackson?”

   “Yeah.”

“Why?”

   “I went looking for you after Kate. Couldn’t find anything. I needed to find Scott and there were traces of his scent on Jackson. When he wouldn’t help me I lost my temper, did a partial shift. He wanted to be turned in exchange for helping me. I knew he would be the type to try and expose us. I took a gamble and no matter which way I rolled I came up snake eyes. I can control him as a wolf. Make it easier. He’ll come around. Plus, Lydia has him wrapped around her little finger. And she’ll side with you. I know she will. She may not feel the way you once felt about her, but she does care for you.”

“I guess that makes sense. I still don’t like it. But there’s nothing that I can really do about it now. But what I can do is ask you this. Did you mean it?”

     “Mean what?” Derek asked puzzled.

“You said you loved me Derek. That’s not something I can just brush aside. So tell me, did you mean it?”

   Rather than use words, Derek answered with a kiss. It was heated and full of something Stiles didn’t quite recognize. There was little else in his mind than what he felt in this moment. And that feeling was pure, unbridled bliss. There was nothing else for it. He let his hands take Derek’s jaw and deepen their embrace. It was magic. Pure and simple. Complex and diverse all at the same time. He had his answer.

    “I take that as a yes.”

Derek smiled and kissed him again. Stiles knew what he wanted. And this time, he was comfortable with giving it to him. He laid his wolf down and pinned his hands above his head while kissing down his jaw. Derek moaned in response, clearly wanting something more.

“Tell me what you need. Derek, I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

    “Mark me.”

“What?”

“Your teeth. Biting is how wolves lay claim to each other. It’s, it’s what you're supposed to do. Make the statement to the world that I’m yours. That’s what I want Stiles.”

   The young teen nodded and removed his wolf’s shirt. And what he found was glorious. Tanned, rippled waves of muscle. Endless streams of beauty and it was all his. Starting at his jaw, the teen bit his way down, not sure how much force to use. From the sound coming from Derek’s throat, he wanted more. So he bit down, harder and harder. Across the chest, and when he reached the wolf’s nipples, he nearly jumped to the ceiling. So that was a thing. Stiles moved down his stomach and finally trailed down to the tuft of hair just above his waist line. He found a considerably sized bulge begging for his attention. He fumbled with the zipper a bit but managed to get the pants that were so very much in the way, off. Before he could remove the underwear, Derek pulled him back up and kissed him again. He felt the prodding of a tongue and he allowed Derek entrance. He tasted like lust and excitement, and Stiles was very much enjoying it. Derek worked over the young teen’s zipper, and in the blink of an eye, his pants were gone as well. Stiles moved back down, and before he could Derek stopped him.

   “Not yet.” he said simply.

“You need to tell me Derek. I’ve only knowledge from porn. But that was with girls. I really don’t know how this works.”

    “I want you. Inside. Inside me. Is that okay?”

“I mean, yeah. So, how exactly do you want to go about this?”

Instead of answering, Derek took Stiles’ fingers into his mouth and sucked gently. It was oddly satisfying. And when there was a decent coating of saliva, Derek used his hands to remove his underwear and lead Stiles down. His fingers found a tight, puckered entrance, waiting for something. Oh, that’s what Derek wanted. Stiles leaned in to kiss his wolf as he rubbed gently around the rosebud. When the first finger slipped in, Derek moaned beautifully. Stiles went slowly, taking his time. It was Derek who wanted more. When the second finger entered the tight, unbearable heat, that was it. Derek was over the moon. Stiles thrusted gently. His wolf thrusted back, begging for more and more. Stiles increased the pace curling his fingers upwards and unknowingly hitting the magic spot deep within Derek. The alpha all but screamed at the pleasure. Stiles, taking caution, added a third finger and pushed in gently. Derek, in all is blissed out glory, moaned even deeper. As Stiles continued to stretch his wolf, he leaned in and kissed him. It was heated and desperate and Stiles knew what Derek wanted next.

   “Um, I don’t know if I have anything.”

“Don’t need it. I know your clean. Besides, not like I can catch anything. Just need a little lube.” Derek said with a smirk.

   Stiles smiled back and reached into the dresser where he kept his “private” time stash. Thankfully, due to recent events, there was plenty left. He slicked his hand and reinserted his fingers while using the others to slick his member. When it seemed that Derek could take no more teasing, when his length was so angry red with arousal, Stiles asked the question.

    “You sure you want this?”

“I’m sure.” the alpha responded while turning himself over. His head facing away from Stiles, he presented himself to his mate, ready and willing. Stiles had to swallow the lump that was building in his throat. This wasn’t going to take long. Leaning over his wolf, the young boy lined himself with Derek’s entrance. There was a breath and then Stiles was enveloped in a tight, clenching heat. His breath shuddered as Derek moaned at the fullness. Taking a moment to adjust himself, Stiles thrusted once. The sound his wolf made went straight to his length, making him even harder. As if that were possible. Derek pushed back begging for more, needing more. Stiles obliged and began a steady rhythm. It was shy and awkward, and not at all neat. But there was no denying the pleasure. It was so intense that Derek was quite literally leaking onto the bed. Noticing his distress, Stiles wrapped one hand around his wolf and pulled gently. At contact, Derek moaned so damn loud it seemed the windows were going to break. Stiles matched the timing of his thrusts to the movements of his hand. He felt the heat in his stomach grow and blossom down towards his groin where it snake its way into his legs and made his toes curl. He was so close. He felt his body shudder. Sensing this, Derek hauled himself upwards, back to Stiles’ chest and twisted his head to kiss his mate.

   “Stiles, do it now. Bite me now. Do it as hard as you can.”

The teen obliged the wolf’s desire and the moment his teeth sank down, the both of them came with an electric explosion. Stiles spilled into his wolf and frantically thrusted as his body climaxed. Derek spilled himself all over Stiles’ hand and the bed, the act of marking taking him over the edge. With his teeth still firmly planted is his wolf’s flesh, Stiles gave one final thrust before collapsing back into the bed. Derek fell with him, too blissed out to care about the mess they were currently laying in. They smiled that stupid smile that only first time lovers were allowed to have. It was messy and in no way perfect, but it was beautiful. And it was there’s. And no one could take that from them. Stiles leaned in to kiss his wolf, earning a happy sound from Derek who returned with feverish abandon. When they parted, Stiles said the three words that made Derek’s wolf howl with joy.

     “I love you to Wolfman.”

They smiled and kissed again. This time without care and so lazily that Stiles was able to notice the tension in his wolf’s muscles.

    “This isn’t over is it?” Stiles asked.

“Afraid not. Kate’s death will bring more hunters. They’ll want who's responsible. And if they think that we were involved, they’ll come after us all.” Derek answered.

     “Let’m try. We’ve got an alpha and two of the best betas you could ask for. Plus there’s that whole thing where I can throw people across the room. And then there’s the Keeper.”

“The witch worries me. He’s not the type to do anything for anyone. He wants something. Something that Kate’s death could give him.”

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew what the man wanted. He’d watched him take it.

   “When we were in the warehouse, he left while everyone was putting themselves back together. He took Kate’s heart. And from what I’ve learned from him, that’s nothing good. Blood magic increases tremendously when amplified with something like a person’s organs. Whatever he’s doing, it’s gonna be big.”

    “That’s not the only thing that’ s big.” Derek commented while taking his mate into his hand.

Stiles blushed and flinched away from the contact, still sensitive from their union.

“Skinny guys surprise indeed.” Derek said while kissing his mate.

   “Look, as happy as I am, can we have a little recharge time. I mean, we will definitely do that again. But let’s just lay down. I know we’ve got a lot to worry about, but let’s just be us for a while. Okay?”

The wolf agreed, pulling Stiles closer to him. Looping their hands together, and placing his knee over the others, he pressed their foreheads together. It was simple. It was calm. It was home.

  
  


   

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the next and final chapter to get a peek of events to come in the sequel.


	21. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keeper uses his spoils for a dark and profane ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to get graphic and nasty. You have been warned. It's very short, but you'll get the point of it when your done reading it.

 

The Keeper’s shop was dimly lit and smelled of Arabic Gum. Smoke from midnight black candles choked the air and made breathing difficult. But it did not bother the Keeper. There was a ritual that needed doing. The first ingredient was of course his own blood. Spilling it with a knife made of dark glass, he allowed an ample amount to flow into the bowl before he sealed the wound. Using a blend of Dragon’s Wort and Hellebore, he mixed the foul substances together while breathing deeply, the smoke tickling his lungs as it did so many times before. Next came the runes.

 

Drawing each with meticulous care using the mixture of blood and herbs, he formed the circle around the heart of one Kate Argent. Each rune in place, he began the second mixture. Panax blended with Clove was spread over the heart as the candles continued to burn, releasing more and more smoke. When the heart was was properly coated, the Keeper used the rest of his mixture to draw an inverted cross over his heart. The symbols complete, he began chanting.

   _Hac signa dicam hic faciam voluntatem meam._

_Spina glacies morte praesidium praecipio tibi._

_Mea et tradam eam alitem illam quae._

_Violenter de carnibus et industria operaque locum meum._

_Et disperdam corde sic i consumentur._

The smoke swirled violently and smothered the heart which turned black as coal. The Keeper, still shaking from his magic, took the organ in his hand and held it above his head. Parting his lips he revealed too sharp of teeth and a tongue far too long to belong to a human. The foul organ was consumed, piece by piece, bit by bit. Each bite sending a gut wrenching squelch through the air. When he was done, the Keeper’s eyes flashed silver before returning to normal. He had company.

    “I always hated the smell of those dreaded candles. Can’t you use something more pleasant smelling?”

“Always a pleasure Kiva. And no. The spell wouldn’t be as efficient.” he responded while licking the last traces of blood from his fingers.

     “The Council is of course, concerned. The families have been notified and will be here within the month. They have been informed of the conditions of the meeting.”

“Then I fail to see the issue.”

    “The issue is whether or not the alpha will be willing to attend.”

“He will. Trust me. That boy has been waiting for a moment like this for some time. Now that he is mated, he’ll want to show of his power and strike some fear into the hearts. Which of course, would be mine dear Kiva.”

    “The Council still agrees with your terms Keeper.” the woman said with a look of disgust on her face.

“Excellent. Do come in. I was just about to make some tea. Please, let us sit.”

    The woman obliged and allowed herself to be led in. She sat quietly. And all the while the Keeper wondered how many hearts he’d get to eat this time around. Maybe none. Maybe many. It was an exciting prospect all the same.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   

  
  
   

 

   

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no we know that Keeper is something a of a mix between a dark druid and another thing that I haven't quite got a name for yet. Anyway, he likes to eat people's hearts. So that's fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Stiles got drunk. Derek is feral. And they had a one sided snuggle thing happen. Oh shit. And before I close out, please be aware that I do not in any way support drinking and driving. Fear does not sober you up. Waiting for your body to process the alcohol is what sobers you. Drive responsibly kids.


End file.
